


The Luckiest

by wordplay



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 00:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordplay/pseuds/wordplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine broke Kurt's heart 3 months before high school graduation. Now, four years later, their group of friends reunites at a lake house to marry off two of their own. With luck, Kurt and Blaine will also be able to finally mend something that's stayed broken for far too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted as part of the Klaine Big Bang in September 2011. The original master post for this story is [here](http://wordplayitout.livejournal.com/12008.html).
> 
> Please note that the bulk of this story was written in Spring 2011. As such it is canon-compliant through the end of S2 but does not comply with some spoilers we've received for S3, and assumes that Kurt, Blaine, Mercedes, Rachel and Tina are all in the class of 2012.
> 
> I was in London with friends to see plays when I decided that clearly what we needed was a Big Chill story. misscake was a travel partner and confidante, who came into our shared room to find me sprawled on the bed crying over "The Big Chill" or noodling in a googledoc more than once during that weekend, and she, kaalee, incapricious, meggitymeg, star98hope, kerryblaze and evil_erato had to listen to me rabbit on randomly throughout that weekend, so many thanks are due to all of them for not killing me.
> 
> misscake was there for all of it, being generally awesome and poking me to WRITE MORE and always willing to talk. She was an amazing cheerleader and collaborator and pushed me through the earliest stages of work on this. At some point prettybird came in to whip my ass into shape and ground this thing a little more in NYC. She gave me travel time advice, roommate stories, and clear direction on where the emotional arc broke down. Many, many thanks are due to both misscake and prettybird, for everything.
> 
> sanj gave it an early read-through just to make sure I wasn't completely off my rocker. Throughout all of it, those who Love the Blazer listened to me bitch and told me whether I could use the phrase "booty call" and answered email inquiries and complained right along with me, and so special thanks are due to whenidance, djgulia, ccmskatechick, shia_labeouf, and hazyjayne. whenidance and ccmskatechick read drafts late in the game when I was losing my mind, and whenidance hooked me up with artsnletters when my original artist found herself unable to complete the work in time. artsnletters came through like a superstar with beautiful work after very little notice; all the cookies and ficlets are due her. And doona_rose gave me a last minute read for anything we all might have missed and ended up talking me down, urging me to exercise restraint in one key scene, and I'm so glad she did.
> 
> That's... a lot of people, isn't it? That's okay; this is my baby, and it just means the story comes to you well-loved. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading.

_A voicemail message left on Kurt's phone late in the morning of January 1, 2016._

Boy, you better sit down for this. Tina just sent me a text message with a picture of an engagement ring on her finger. I can't believe they're actually doing it – she's so young! And I'm not seeing either one of them until we go back early for rehearsals and auditions, so I'll get to David before I do Tina – he better watch out.

–––

February 10, 2016

To: David, Mercedes, Blaine, Kurt, Rachel, Wes, Mia, Camille, Natalie, Nicole, Jennifer, Quinn

Dear everybody,

So hopefully by now you've all had a chance to get used to the _absolute awesome_ that is me and David getting married. I am so ridiculously excited, so if you still think it's weird or antifeminist or we're too young or whatever just... keep it to yourself, because I need your help planning a wedding.

We're keeping my mother's hands off of it because we're trying to keep it small, because it's nicer and cheaper and nobody needs the drama. Mercedes gets to be maid of honor and take care of my fractious ass because if it weren't for her (dot dot dot) and Blaine will be David's best man because he just is. Both of our attendants, I'm pretty sure, will rue the day.

What I would really like to do is have the most amazing, romantic, laidback summer wedding. I want it to be in a pretty place, and I want there to be flowers and lemonade and champagne and lots of tinkly music and dancing on the grass, and that's really about it. And I want my friends to be involved, I want everybody who's getting this email to know that they're special to us, so what I want to ask of you guys is that you help us – help us plan our wedding, help us get it ready, be a part of it. You guys are the most talented people I know, and we love all of you.

So if you're game, let me know. The weekend we've picked for the wedding is the 25th and 26th of June (yes, this June, you losers) and I know it's pretty soon after the end of school for a lot of us, but I really like the idea of finishing college and staring my grownup life with David for real.

More details later, once I've come down off of this cloud. And finished my labwork.

Love and in love,  
Tina

–––

February 10, 2016

Kurt –  
Just a private followup to ask you to be my HBIC. You're the only person I know who has planned a wedding and you can do everything and will forever be my style guru. Bring your A game, baby, and thank you for getting over IT, because I need you.

Love you – T.

–––

March 3, 2016

To: David, Mercedes, Blaine, Kurt, Rachel, Wes, Mia, Nicole

Okay, so if I've heard back from you in the affirmative you're on this email list, which I've entitled CAMP WEDDING 2016 for lack of a more epic title – all my epic thoughts are filled up with finishing my thesis and deciding what we're doing about last names. (And thank you, but it's more complicated than just doodling them in the margins of my notebooks. _You_ try being a feminist with a name like Cohen-Chang and marrying a proud man!)

But I wanted to let you know that we have a location! Rachel has already come through and offered us her family's place up at Marblehead, and oh my god, you guys, it's so perfect! I spent a week there with some of you a couple summers ago, so you will remember how amazing that house is, and the land around it, and the pier into the lake and I'm so excited, and it's all starting to come together in my head, so let's all say a big thank you to Rachel and her dads. THANK YOU, MR AND MR AND MS BERRY!

What this means, though, is that since we have the whole house we can spend some time there before the wedding whipping things into shape, and they've given us the go-ahead to move into the house as of Saturday the 18th. That house is HUGE, and if you're going to be helping us get things together you should totally come spend the week with us so we can make things. It'll be like the biggest house party slash crafting session ever. Mercedes will get high off of magic markers and Kurt will spill glitter everywhere and pronounce it festive. I can't wait.

A map is attached. Let me know when we can expect to see you, and good luck finishing up the semester! (And, I think for everybody on this list: have fun at graduation! Can you believe it?)

Tina Cohen-Chang-Williams (is a terrible name)

–––

Kurt –  
My fathers will not appreciate another glitter explosion; they're still vacuuming it out of the carpets. Find a new angle.

***  
Ms. Rachel Berry  
CMU MT Class of 2016  
Watch my YouTube channel at http://www.youtube.com/user/OneBerryBrightStar  
A performance schedule and headshots are available upon request

"I am simple, complex, generous, selfish, unattractive, beautiful, lazy, and driven."  
Barbra Streisand

–––

March 4, 2016

Dear all:

Glitter is so Winter 2011 and is completely inappropriate for a summer wedding. It's like you don't know me _at all_.

I'll be there a few days late – my dad's not doing so great and I want to swing home, so expect me on Sunday night.

Looking forward to taking my place as Emperor of All Things Stylish and Beautiful,  
Kurt.

–––

  
Tina Miriam Cohen-Chang  
&  
David Marcus Williams  
invite you to share in their joy  
at their wedding  
Saturday, June 24, 2016  
at six o'clock in the evening  
at the home of Hiram and Leroy Berry  
Marblehead, Ohio  


–––

 _A post from the "Boy on the Street" blog at www.papermag.com, Friday, June 16 2016:_

Good morning-after, darlings!

There are two big pieces of news affecting this blog in both the short and the long term, so let's get to it right away:

(1) I'm going away! That's right; for the next two weeks I'll be back home in The Dreary Midwest, but for the very best of reasons – my own personal Babycakes is getting married! And who better to help her out with all the preparations but her own personal fabulous wedding planner, the one she gets for free because I owe this girl, I owe her _big_. Her soon-to-be-husband is a dream, too, the incarnation of all things tall, dark, and handsome, and he always brings cute friends along. I'm calling this one a win. It means that this space will be quieter than usual, although I'm hoping to throw up at least one entry with highlights from the preparation, so you can see how a city mouse tries to bring a little kultcha back to the country. Yee-haw!

(2) But then I'm coming back! I've graduated from college now, I'm a real Boy all grown and proper, and Paper has been kind enough to offer me a real gig so I can pay my rent and make a dent in my (all too real) student loans. It's a dream come true, and it also means that I'll be here more often, on the regular as the kids might have once said in some place that wasn't The Dreary Midwest. This blog will still be one of my main spaces here on the site, but I'll also be doing a little editorial work and some fashion and scene coverage. No more begged passes and special favors for this boy; look out, world, now I have regular access to a Press Pass!

See you all in a few weeks! As always, stay out of trouble, but if you don't – oh my god, tell me **all about it**.

~~ Your Boy on the Street


	2. Sunday

His eyes are gritty by the time he's pulling up to the house; two hours wouldn't have seemed like such a long drive just a few years ago, but he's been in New York long enough to still be unaccustomed to that much time behind the wheel. He'd meant to get away from Lima by noon, but Carole had asked him to stay for lunch and then Finn wanted to drop by for one more visit before he left. They ultimately just lost track of time, so that it was almost 7 by the time he got on the road. It was unfortunate – he hated driving at night – but leaving Lima had become increasingly complicated for him. His dad blew off his concerns when he finally mentioned them, but to Kurt's eyes he looked drawn, tired. He'd finally had a minute to talk alone with Carole and she insisted he was fine, that his doctors' reports were all normal, and that what Kurt was seeing was just the aging process, accelerated to his eyes by his long absences. Maybe she's right – some days it feels like everything is changing so fast – but his dad is only just hitting 50, and it worries Kurt.

This whole trip home is just a mess.

And he doesn't want to feel that way, he wants to be happy for his friends, so he sits there in his car, his beloved old Navigator that his dad keeps in excellent condition – and waits and listens to his iPod for just a minute more.

He's had two hours on the road, two hours of Ohio landscape and then beach town Sunday night traffic, to get used to what's waiting for him inside that house, and he's still stalling. He's excited to see his friends, the people he cares about with whom there's been far too little time over the last few years, but he also knows that Blaine is inside.

It's funny – you would think that he'd had all the thinking and heartbreak over Blaine that one lifetime could stand, but leaving Lima and heading this way had been like driving out of one set of worries so that he could rush straight into another. They'd seen each other plenty over the last few years, it was true, and for the most part those had been fine. But those were parties, dinner, quick evenings out being young and stupid. He's looking now at spending a _week_ in a beautiful lakehouse with his ex, the one who broke his heart and then slipped away, while they help their best friends plan their wedding. And Tina and David deserve it, they deserve a week of laughter followed up with the best day of their lives, and Kurt can't wait to see them and he knows that he can do this. But, god, it's going to be hard.

He's rubbing his eyes again, thinking about all of it and also just about how tired he is, when there's a tap at the window just beside his head. He jumps and opens his eyes to look out the window and thank god, there's Mercedes's beautiful smile. He grins at her, turning down the music and rolling down the window. "Hey there, pretty girl. Want a ride?"

"Boy, get your ass out of that car and give me a hug. Five months, Kurt!" and she's pulling at the door and he's laughing, turning off his ignition and whipping off his seat belt so he can slide out of the car to squeeze her tight.

It hasn't always been easy for them, and they've had their ups and downs, but from the time Mercedes declared herself Doris to his Montgomery after they'd watched the original _Fame_ back when the new movie had come out (because they'd _desperately_ needed a palate cleanser, and possibly new eyes altogether), they'd been there for each other. She'd held his hand and listened to him cry over his mom, over Finn, over his dad, over Blaine, over boys, over difficult living situations and arguments with roommates and disagreements with professors and issues at work. She'd hated people and learned to love people and given up her Torrid wardrobe. She's his _girl_ , and he'll never be anything but glad to see her.

"How are you, princess?"

"I am taking it one day at a time, Kurt," she says, her sigh heavy.

"Oh no. Tina? Or Mitchell? Or oh god, not Tina _and_ Mitchell? _Scandalous!_ " because if he can get her to laugh, then everything will eventually be okay.

"Oh good lord, do not give me those mental images," she says, smiling. Well, it's a start. "Both, actually – we're 'on a break' again, although he'll be here on Saturday. And Tina – she's fine, she's just kind of _crazy_ excited about this bride thing and we need Ritalin or something because she –"

Mercedes is interrupted by an ear-splitting, "KUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURT OH MY GOD KURT!" Tina is rocketing down the front porch steps, trailed by an only slightly less enthusiastic Rachel and then David, beaming from ear to ear and sedately following behind them.

She hits him like a truck, and he staggers back into the side of the Navigator under the weight but they're both giggling. He hasn't seen her since the day after Christmas, when he'd been over at her house helping her pack for New Year's at David's, just days before the proposal that they'd all known was coming but that nobody had dreamed would come so _soon_. She pulls back, still laughing, and god, she's so _happy_. College had been so good for Tina, _David_ had been so good for her, and the little gothy girl he'd known is still under there, but her sarcasm is blunted, and Kurt's been on the opposite trajectory but he's pretty sure that's just what happens to some people when they fall so completely in love that they can't wait for what happens tomorrow.

Rachel hurries up and hugs him and squeals at him, too, and he smiles at her. They'd been together just weeks before when she'd been in town for her Showcase performance, one of the last major milestones before her graduation from Carnegie Mellon launched her onto Broadway. Kurt had come to watch her perform and had stood to the side and waited while she'd been chatted up by agents and directors. It had been hard not to be a little bit jealous – years after they made their extremely informal Broadway debut together, she was doing it, of _course_ Rachel Berry was going to be the one of them to really make it happen – but that night, after drinks and dinner and dancing, it had been good to sit down to his laptop in his little apartment and write about the experience, to pour everything he had into words about his friend and his rival, and to remember where his own voice lived now.

And then David finally strolls up, his hands in his pockets and a big smile on his face. "Kurt, it's good to see you, man. I'm glad you're here," he says, and he holds out his hand for Kurt to shake.

It's never not been a little awkward, these last few years. Mercedes and David had met during their first semester of college when Mercedes won a spot in UIUC's Black Chorus. What had started with a simple text message, "You will never guess who was at my audition today! That cute Warbler, the one with the ears and the gorgeous smile?" spiraled so far out of control that sometimes Kurt can't believe it actually happened, is _still_ happening. David's a year older than them and, along with the older members of the chorus, had intimidated the hell out of Mercedes, always leaving her feeling defensive and unsure. She'd denied it and told Kurt he was crazy and then dragged Tina along for backup to their end of semester party. Tina had argued with a group of the chorus men for 15 minutes about the treatment of women in popular music and continued it with David long after the rest of them had wandered away, and by the end of the night they'd ended up making out on the back porch while the young women of UIUC's Black Chorus shot Mercedes dirty looks for bringing along the cute Asian girl who snagged a perfectly acceptable young black man out from under them.

Mercedes called him the next morning, pissed at Tina and pissed at her girlfriends and _really_ pissed at David, who she had decided was really the problem. Kurt assured her that it was just one of those things that happened in college – he'd been dragged out of bed for her phone call, and had been trying to sleep off his own disastrous Last Night before he had to pack to go home. Kurt reminded her that Tina and David really didn't run in the same circles, they shared _no_ mutual friends, and that years from now Tina would still be with Mike and everything would be out in the open and they would all share a laugh about that one crazy night in college. He believed it, too, and kept telling her the same thing over the long, awkward Christmas break when Mercedes and Tina really hadn't been talking, and Tina and Mike had done everything _but_ talking, and Kurt just tried to stay out of it.

Only that never really happened, that happily-ever-after for Tina and Mike, because Tina and David ran into each other during their first week back at school in January. They sat together at a talk at the Beckman Institute, a talk that both of their psych professors had offered up as extra credit opportunities, and then they went to lunch at the Illini Union food court, and then they ditched their afternoon classes and went to David's dorm room. A week later Mercedes came back to their dorm room to find Tina sobbing on her bed, clutching her phone to her chest – she'd just called Mike and broken it off with him, because she was _gone_ over David. Mercedes had looked at her, gone downstairs to the dorm store to get ice cream, and gone back upstairs to clean Tina up and call Kurt on Skype. That night after the call ended he'd been shaken – if it wasn't going to be him and Blaine, he'd been _sure_ that Mike and Tina were the real thing. Maybe none of it had been real, they'd all just been using each other until they could get out of Lima. It had never felt true, not even then.

The real horror of the situation didn't hit him until that summer, when Tina and David were still together, when they'd all made it back to Ohio, when he'd walked into a cookout in Tina's backyard and seen Blaine standing near the grill. David saw him freeze where he stood and came over to greet him like Tina's home was his own, and that was the first real sign that this awkwardness was their new normal. He might have won the New Directions when he and Blaine had finished with their vicious breakup, but a year later and with David in the picture, everything had changed.

It's gotten easier, sure – he and David are friends now, too, of a kind. Kurt comes with Tina, that deal was sealed a long time ago, and David and Blaine are kind of the same way. They've figured out how to make it work, and David has never said a word to Kurt about it, but he's always wondered what Blaine and David say to each other about it. He's seen them, dark heads bent together at parties and at dinners, and sometimes one or both of them will look up at him while they're talking and give him a little embarrassed smile before they look back down, and he'll know they're talking about him, or about them. But now, when David is reaching out to shake his hand to welcome him to his wedding, Kurt appreciates him for what he is – a good man, a kind person, the person one of his dearest girls is going to marry. He's good for her, stronger than Mike had ever been, a rock on his own who doesn't need Tina to do or be anything for him except his partner. He reaches out to pull David a little closer into the kind of manly hug they've been exchanging for years now. They might not be close – they can't be, there's way too much in the way – but this they can do.

David goes around to the back of the Navigator and starts pulling Kurt's bags out, and Tina and Rachel continue to buzz around him, chattering nonstop. He meets Mercedes's eye over their heads and raises a brow at her, and she rolls her eyes and mouths, "Later" at him. It takes him a second to remember that, right, she was telling him her story, and he blows her a kiss to mark their spot before he grabs her arm and drags her around to the back to help David.

The house still looks the same, and Kurt remembers moments of weekends past here – he swears he can still see a hint of shimmer to the carpet in the den, and he remembers making promotional posters for New Directions' auditions the summer before their senior year, and the fight over the big glitter canister that he'd definitively ended by dumping it over Rachel's head. "There, fine, you're the biggest star of all. Are you happy _now_?" he'd sniped, and she'd stood there with her big eyes blazing with fury. It's a good memory, and not only because of the way Blaine had laughed at them both after he'd pulled him from the room and kissed him until he calmed down.

Rachel and David hustle him up the stairs to one of the bedrooms lining the main hall. He's back in the room he'd shared with Finn the last time they were here, and Rachel tells him he's in there on his own this time around. They've moved in an extra table for Kurt to use as a workstation, right by the window so the light will be good, and he moves almost immediately to the table to set up his sewing machine and start unpacking everything he's brought along. David waves and leaves, and then it's just Rachel talking a mile a minute about everything that's happened since her Showcase – the agents who have called and then not called, her plans to go back to look for an apartment, her thoughts on what kind of job she should take while she's looking. It's oddly soothing, being chattered at by Rachel, and by the time he's finished attaching his footpedal and settling his odds and ends on the table, he's feeling like home.

He's gazing out the window into the deepening darkness, then, still absentmindedly listening to Rachel, when Blaine's car pulls into the driveway.

Blaine steps out of the car and Kurt can feel himself pause, just watching him. He's definitely shifted into summer Blaine – khaki shorts, a faded grey t–shirt, aviator sunglasses still propped on his head and his hair a little bit wild. He's tanned and he's smiling and Kurt's whole body longs for him. Just for a moment he wishes he could still be angry, because surely that would hurt less.

"He looks good, doesn't he?" Rachel's voice is soft beside him, and he tears his eyes away from Blaine so he can turn to face her.

"He always does."

"He broke up with Ollie, did you know?"

"I heard – we talked at Christmas, a little bit." It had been a good conversation, actually – they've been getting better. At Christmas they'd stood in Tina's kitchen and laughed, talked about school and work and Blaine's application package for grad school and his student teaching. It's the first time Kurt's seen him since then, and he's not sure what to expect.

"Do you think –" she starts, but he cuts her off.

"I don't see how. Nothing's changed."

"That's exactly my point."

"No. No, I mean everything's changed. I'm there, he's... wherever he is." Her eyes want to argue, but that's nothing new. "I mean it, Rachel – don't. Leave it."

"Okay." And her voice is so gentle, so sweet, and this is why, despite everything, he loves her. "Are you going to be okay?"

He knows his smile is anxious and brittle, but it's the best he can do. "Rachel Berry, I'm going to be fabulous." He turns back to the window, and Blaine's looking up at him. He's too far away to make out the expression on his face, the light from the porch too dim to be much help, but he raises his hand in a little wave and then smiles brightly, and Kurt feels his smile warm and nods back, slowly, just one time, before he steps back from the window.

Rachel squeezes his hand. "Show face on, Hummel. Blaine's brought pizza – let's go face the audience and eat dinner."

When they make it downstairs the room is full of people. Wes Liang, from Dalton, had been gone with Blaine to pick up the pizza and they take a minute to catch up. It's been years since they've seen each other and Kurt is unsurprised to learn that Wes is still as serious as he's always been, but he's easier now, too, somehow; he'd always seemed so adult even when they were in school, and maybe it's just that Kurt has caught up to him. They're standing against a sideboard, balancing their paper plates atop a collection of picture frames when Blaine comes over with drinks, passing Wes a Sam Adams and pressing a Diet Coke into Kurt's hand with a smile and a, "Hey, Kurt. How's your dad?"

"I think he's fine – it's possible I overreacted. That's what he and Carole are telling me, anyway."

Blaine smiles at him, sweet and warm. "I'm really glad to hear it. Hey, we should talk later, catch up a little bit!"

Kurt nods, says, "That sounds good," and then Blaine is gone again, off to pass out more drinks.

When Kurt looks back Wes is smiling sadly at him. He feels his face go hard, cold, and he's ready to throw up his usual defenses when Wes asks him about work.

It's already a relief to talk about nothing with somebody he barely knows anymore.

–––

Paper plates and pizza boxes have been shoved into too few trash bags. Kurt has just settled in next to Mercedes, and Tina's friend Mia has just discovered the dual blenders Rachel's dad keeps behind the bar. The room is settling and over the whir of crushing ice Kurt can lean against Mercedes and lose himself in the blur of voices. Mercedes strokes his hair and he lets his eyes close, already a little tired, before Tina staggers to her feet and addresses them all.

"Okay, people, this is a full house, so cool it for a minute. I have very important news to share."

"Actually, can you just –– give me just a minute," Mia says from the bar, and they all watch her as she shakes a blender jar, whacks it against the bar, and then blends it one more time. Kurt can hear the last chunk of ice give, and then it's a slushy roar. "Got it. Okay, go!"

"Thank you. Okay, Mia is getting drinks, but I wanted to let you know that our last member has arrived! Our Wedding Boot Camp can finally begin!" Kurt smiles at the capital letters in her voice, and joins in a round of cheers. "I have a list here somewhere..." David hands her a piece of paper, "right, so here's the job list."

"Rachel is our hostess, so she's in charge of rentals and basically making sure we don't burn the place down. Mercedes will _do my bidding_ for the week, which is awesome, and actually, so will Kurt."

Rachel snorts. "Good luck with that," and Blaine elbows her in the side. Kurt raises a brow at him, and Blaine just smiles back. He doesn't miss the way Mercedes draws in her breath.

"Blaine belongs to David, and of course he's doing the music, and Wes is acting as photographer." Kurt shoots a glance at Wes; he'd had no idea. "Mia and Nicole are doing the food, and Mia will be also acting as bartender the night of the wedding, which is why she's my favorite." There's a general uproar, but then Mia starts passing around margaritas, and they quickly agree that no, that's totally fair.

Kurt takes a sip, licking at the salt along the rim of the plastic cup (classy, as always with this crew) and Mercedes murmurs, "Keep that up. He's still watching."

"Oh, shut up and drink faster," he hisses under his breath, staring into his cup until his eyes cross as he takes another drink.

"And I think that's about it," Tina finishes. "I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted this to be a simple thing, just a big house party, really. But I trust you guys, and I know you'll make it beautiful."

Kurt looks up again, smiles at her and gives her a wink.

"In the meantime, though, we have this house for a week. Rachel, what should we do?"

The suggestions start off silly and quickly devolve from there; Kurt stays quiet tucked into Mercedes's side and takes a second margarita, resolving not to think about how all the salt is going to make him feel tomorrow.

Twenty minutes later they're deep into a round of silly karaoke that's rapidly becoming sillier, as Mia keeps both blenders humming and the margaritas coming. Tina and David have _killed_ "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", leaving Kurt and Mercedes nudging each other in the side at their adorableness, and then the two of them are dragging Tina back to the mic, reprising "Born This Way" with the full participation of the rest of the room and with the benefit of another five years of knowing themselves resting full upon them. He can feel Blaine watching him when he's sliding his hands down his torso, and he takes a risk, high on tequila and the only good song to come off of a lackluster record, and makes and holds eye contact when he palms his own crotch.

They've done this before, flirted and teased through a song and everything they weren't saying, and the last night of the summer after their freshman year it had ended in Tina's bedroom, both of them gasping and pressing their frustration into the other's skin. Kurt had lightly dragged his teeth down Blaine's dick without breaking eye contact, and Blaine had tugged his hair back a little harder than necessary to bite a bruise into Kurt's throat, and the next morning Kurt had woken up in Tina's bedroom sore and sticky and had gotten the hell out of there as quickly as possible. They'd never talked about it, escaping back into their lives at school, and then by Christmas Blaine was clutching the hand of a boy named Oliver like it was a lifeline and refusing to make eye contact with Kurt. Kurt didn't forget, but he put his head down and threw himself into life in New York and kept putting one foot in front of the other.

By the time they're done Rachel is snatching the mic out of his hand and crooking her finger at Blaine, and she immediately launches them into a reprise of their ignoble performance of "Don't You Want Me". It's brutal, a scrape over a spot that never stopped being a little bit sore, but Kurt sits on the sofa, flanked by Tina and Mercedes, hating them both a little bit, even while he smiles.

And then Blaine locks eyes with him as he hits the line "now five years later on you've got the world at your feet, success has been so easy for you. But don't forget it's me who put you where you are now, and I can put you back down, too," and as they swing into the chorus that's it, this is a completely different performance than he'd seen so long ago.

Mercedes leans into him to murmur, "Oh I see how it is."

"Oh shut up."

"He's coming hard, boy."

He watches Blaine sing, watches him bounce and smile and flirt, and he can feel himself being drawn in but he says, "And he'll be coming alone, because I'm not doing this with him again."

"That would be easier to believe if you weren't still staring at him," and Kurt pinches her leg.

The song ends; Blaine sits. Kurt spends the rest of the night in a dance that should be heartbreakingly familiar – long glances, eyes skimming over each other – but Blaine is doing it all wrong. The last time they'd done this, and every time Kurt has done it since with somebody strange and mysterious, it's been about confidence, about tests and teases, about reeling him in with stops and starts and hot and cold running interest. There's nothing cold about Blaine's eyes tonight – Mercedes was right, he's coming right at him, muted but constant, and Kurt drifts off, a sweaty cup of melting margarita in his hand, there against Mercedes' shoulder, with the look in Blaine's eyes burned into his brain.

When he wakes to a shout of laughter from Mercedes, just minutes later, Blaine is gone.


	3. Monday

Monday starts with a walk around the house and the grounds with Tina, Mercedes and Rachel. The girls are chattering about the wedding and the house – what needs to be cleaned up, what they need to add or move, if the rental order for chairs is enough. They'd brought Tina's mother here in the spring in the last push to calm her down, and much of the big planning had been done then, but now that they actually have to _do_ it rather than just talk about it, it's starting to feel more overwhelming. Kurt's glad he brought his clipboard, and the girls grin at him and then at each other every time he takes a note down.

The day passes with lists and consultations and endless discussions. Tina's initial discussions with the florist have left things pretty much in order, and it's not complicated. She wants just a moment of summer, full of wildflowers and greenery, and Kurt will be wrapping her bouquet of asters and black-eyed susans and wood lilies in a swath of handspun ribbon he's brought from New York, a remnant of silver-shot raw silk captured from the end of a one-of-a-kind bolt that a new friend had put aside for him. Her eyes are big when he pulls it from the canvas bag he's tucked into his sewing box, and he has to quickly whisk it away and rewrap it before the tears in her eyes fall onto it and ruin the silk. Over lunch he fiddles on his laptop with program designs, running fonts by Tina and Mercedes, and he measures the borders and margins of the paper Tina has chosen to make sure, make _double_ sure, that it's fine before he emails the whole thing off to Kinko's, with a request for completion by Friday. By late afternoon he's chopping vegetables for a salad while Mia and Nicole prepare pasta and a simple sauce, and he listens to their ever larger plans for food before he stops them and reminds them that he's taking the kitchen on Wednesday night and Thursday and Friday mornings for work on the cake. They look like they don't believe him, and continue their planning around him, and he makes a note to press the point later.

Kurt ends up between Rachel and Blaine at the dinner table, which is a little awkward but probably a good idea, Kurt thinks as he pours a second glass of wine. Before December he hadn't really _talked_ much to Blaine for years, and god knows Rachel can talk enough for all three of them. Most of what he knows about Blaine's life now comes second or third-hand, and if he maybe only keeps his facebook open in the hope that one day Blaine would change his mind about it and reactivate his own account, well, Kurt figured that long and lingering pain is just a part of having a serious ex. And after last night, he's a little thrown, and Blaine doesn't seem to be in a hurry to decode any of his own behavior for him.

Kurt is just smiling at Blaine and opening his mouth to ask him something, _anything_ , when Rachel turns to him with a chirpy, "How's Finn?" Kurt frowns down at his dinner but smiles at Rachel. "He's fine. He met a girl named Meg and it looks like it's getting serious – he was talking about rings the last time I saw him. She's all right, but she thinks he's absolutely brilliant, so that should tell you something about her judgment and taste level."

Rachel just laughs, bumping his shoulder with his own. "Don't be like that about your brother! He was a good boyfriend! Are they coming to the wedding?"

"I think Finn is; he's still working for my dad and I'm sure he can get the time off." Kurt knows Finn is coming, actually; he'd printed a copy of the map for him before he left yesterday, but he doesn't want Rachel to feel crushed at the thought of seeing her ex who's all but engaged to somebody else.

Which really isn't a problem, apparently, as Rachel grins and claps her hands together, "Oh my god, I can tell her the best stories! Sooo, what about you? Are you dating anybody?" and she gives him a look and oh god, she's trying to be sly. God save them all.

"Rachel, I saw you _last week_. You're the most frequent commenter on my blog at _Paper_ and you are a compulsive facebook stalker. Have you heard me mention anybody?"

"Noooo, but I _do_ see pictures of you coming through tagged; you just always delete the tags so they're harder to find later. But you do look like you're having a good time!" Kurt just stares down at his dinner, aware that Rachel has just called him a slut in front of his ex-boyfriend. He can see Blaine out of the corner of his eye, but he's just eating his dinner, his body turned toward Kurt and obviously following their conversation, but not reacting to any of it.

"I see people, I go out, but there's nobody serious, nobody... yeah. What about you?"

"Oh, you know – work is an obsession, especially with the move coming up. And you, Blaine? Anybody new after Oliver?" Kurt can't believe it – _Rachel Berry had just breezed through an opportunity to talk about herself_ , and suddenly this whole bizarre conversation makes sense; he would bet the entire fall collection that she had her eye on getting them back together. Kurt shivers.

"Oh. No, that wasn't a great breakup – I'm on my own for a little bit." And _that_ part of the story is new, so Kurt offers up silent thanks for Rachel in interrogation mode and takes another bite of pasta.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! You always looked very happy together; what happened?" He barely contains himself from sneering into his glass of wine; if by "very happy" you meant, "attached to each other at the face", then sure, they had seemed delighted to be together. For most of their sophomore and junior years, so many of Tina's parties and dinners had included the dubious thrill of seeing his ex hanging all over somebody else. It had sucked, it _still_ sucked when he thought about it, and the worst had been last summer when Blaine had been in Wisconsin with Ollie for most of it. It was hard to see him, sure, but that didn't mean he didn't still miss him when he wasn't around.

Kurt turns to Blaine; he wants to watch him while he answers this question. Blaine is looking down into his wine, swirling the liquid so that it almost reaches the lip of the glass. His face is passive, expressionless even as he sighs quietly. "It was just never quite right. I think we both really tried – we were good for each other. But when one of you is hung up on somebody else it's just never going to work, and eventually you get tired of trying to force it."

Rachel coos behind him, "Oh, Blaine, I'm so sorry! That's just terrible," and Blaine turns and gives her a wry smile and says, "Thanks, but we really are both better off," before his eyes flick over to Kurt's and the smile fades from his face and they're left just staring at each other.

"There was somebody else?" he hears his own voice say quietly, and Blaine just looks at him before he responds in a hush. "Well, yeah. It sucked, for both of us, but I think we're both right where we need to be," and his smile is tentative, a little strained.

Rachel, of course, has apparently missed this all together and has been working her way through another bite of olive oil and rosemary pasta. "And graduate school is next for you, I heard? Where are you going to be?"

Blaine keeps looking at him and his smile gets even more nervous as he says, "Well, actually, I'm going to– " but the last bit is lost as Tina yells across the table, "OKAY! STATUS REPORTS!" and apparently chat time is over, and this is going to be a working dinner.

There's not much to tell this early in the game – he and Rachel give their report from the pier that morning and Rachel goes on and on about how well Tina's grandmother's chuppah will work there, taking a little digression into Jewish wedding law and the blessing of outdoor weddings until Kurt talks her down. Wes announces that the private time is over, and that he's going to start casual snaps tomorrow in preparation for Tina's formal portraits on Thursday morning; everybody groans and bitches about having to stay "on" all the time while they're trying to get things ready, until Tina reminds them how important this process is to her and how badly she wants good reminders. Blaine just says something quick about the music planning getting underway, and he and Mercedes share a nod, and then Mia and Nicole are talking again about the menu and he has to pay attention to that, to press his point about the cake before the kitchen schedule turns into an absolute nightmare. At that point the conversation devolves again, everybody newly focused on their tasks for the next week, and at one point in his argument with Mia and Nicole about plating he glances over and sees Tina and David, leaning back in their chairs and presiding over their happy minions, and shares a smile with Tina. People are starting to get up, moving around to be closer to somebody they have to talk to, and Mercedes and Rachel are clearing plates into the kitchen.

Rachel comes back into the room just as they're draining the last of a bottle of wine, a maniacally gleeful expression on her face and a remote control in her hand. "You guys are not going to believe the clips we have. New Directions and Warblers revue in 5 minutes!," she chirps as she waves the remote after them and, despite the groans and mutterings of "Man, erections are almost always nude – otherwise you have a bit of a problem", everybody pushes their chairs away, eager to get on with the mockery.

Kurt is laughing at Mercedes's muttered, "That girl – we're going to need to start slipping valium into her drinks in a day or two, too," when Blaine slides back into his space quickly, stopping him with a hand on his arm and a low whisper. "Stay behind – I need to talk to you." Kurt's belly flips.  
He winks at Mercedes and tells her he'll be there in a minute, shaking his head at her cocked eyebrow, and once everybody has shuffled out of the room, Blaine goes to the corner where his bag is sitting against his guitar case.

"Listen, this has to be quick, but I wanted to tell you – David has an arrangement of something he wants a bunch of us to do at the wedding as a surprise for Tina." Blaine pulls out a folder filled with sheet music and flips through it, finally handing a sheet to Kurt. "In fact, there's a solo part in it for you."

Scribbled across the top of the page in Blaine's scrawl is his name (brings back memories – so many notes, old love letters) and Kurt skims the page. Blaine's right – there are a lot of high parts here that he's well-suited to hit, but the song.... "Oh my god, I'm going to have to make sure both her mascara _and_ her eyeliner are Oscar-grade waterproof."

Blaine just grins. "Yeah, should be a show-stopper."

Kurt glances up with a grin to see the look on Blaine's face (a little bit awkward, thanks) and finishes skimming through the back pages of his copy of the full arrangement. "It's a big arrangement. Who all's doing this?"

"Mostly old Warblers, although Wes is sitting it out because he says he's not in great voice anymore, and he really wants to get good pictures of this – he's going out tomorrow to get another tripod because he wants to get several angles of film on it. But, yeah, everybody who David's inviting have already been looped in, plus a few people from David's college chorus that he thinks can really do it justice – he says some of their doowop guys can join you on some of the high parts, but some of them will be just you."

It will be _spectacular_ , as long as... "You think we can have it all ready in time?" he asks, finally looking up.

"I do – everybody's chomping at the bit to make it happen, and we've set up Skype practices to get it rolling. They're all coming in for the party on Thursday, and then on Friday we'll sneak away to do a last minute rehearsal – just tell Tina you have to help us with clothes or something. Mercedes knows – she's been helping with some of the chorus guys so David doesn't have to worry about it too much. It should be fine." Blaine looks confident, easy in it, and it's a good look on him.

Kurt smiles back. "I can't believe we're singing in each other's weddings. Well... I mean, not, you know – _each other's_ weddings," he says, waving the sheet music back and forth between them.

"No, that would be terribly awkward," Blaine says, with a sad smile. "But yeah, I know what you mean. It's really... yeah."

"Very _adult_ ," Kurt ventures, because wow, didn't they just somehow wander straight from friendly to strained in a hurry.

"Yeah," and Blaine's just looking at him, his eyes suddenly serious. "It's time, I guess – time to move on, to finally give up the playing around and just grow into the people we really are."

"I guess," Kurt says. The moment is serious, solemn, and there's been too much tension tonight – he has to break it. "But before we do that, wanna go see the people we used to be?"

And Blaine just smiles at him and waves him forward with his hand, "Lead the way! But here, give me that first," and he takes the music to tuck it back away. "I'll give it to you tomorrow, when you're less likely to leave it on the end table for Tina to find," he says, and Kurt rolls his eyes.

When they make it into the living room, Rachel has taken control of the remote and is streaming some of her own greatest hits. There's just a narrow spot left at the end of one of the sofas farthest away from the TV and they settle down there together, Kurt leaning hard against the arm – the full length of his leg is aware of the inch or two of space separating him from Blaine. David wrestles the remote from her with some grumbling about equal time and cues up the Warblers' 2011 Regionals performance, and Kurt hasn't seen this in _ages_. He'd almost forgotten about Blaine's silly Dalton hair, but mostly he just can't believe how young they all look, how clear it is to his eyes now that he's watching with some distance just how transparent they were when they fell in love with each other. He can't help smiling at it, bittersweet as it is, because they were just babies but he's surprised, really, to realize that he's still never felt anything else like it, and that as puppyish as his crush had been when it began, it had grown into something deep and lingering, and between this and the conversation in the dining room he's shaken. "Hung up on somebody else", "the people we really are," Blaine had said – and he's looking at the screen and he sees his babyish face, how self-conscious and anxious he'd been then, but he mostly sees himself, he remembers those feelings, and he's not ashamed of them, not embarrassed like he can still sometimes get about his fumbling attempts at aborted relationships since then. It was his first time out, and while it lasted it was profoundly real. He'd been so lucky, and he can finally just be grateful for it.

He's watching them singing "Candles" to each other on the screen when Kurt feels Blaine's hand come to rest over where his are folded. Blaine's fingers are warm and calloused and gentle, and the tips of his fingers are sliding over the back of his hand, gliding down to follow the length of his fingers one-by-one and trace back up, and Kurt doesn't know what this is but he follows the advice of the warm liquid of his belly and moves his hand closer to Blaine, letting it rest in the small space between them on the couch so that the backs of his fingers are curled against the side of Blaine's thigh. He can't bring himself to look at Blaine yet, but it's okay because Blaine follows him back, turning his hand so that he can stroke lazy, drifting circles into Kurt's palm, starting at the pads beneath his fingers and running down to trace over the bones of his wrist before spiraling back up, and god, his hands, and it's a sweet reminder of Blaine drawing those same circles down his back so long ago, lazy in the afterglow the few times they'd been able to share a bed. Kurt's whole hand feels sensitive, like every pore is trying to absorb Blaine and every hair is reaching out to understand, every square centimeter of his skin so aware of Blaine and the mystery of his thoughts. Every movement feels significant, laden and slow, and he sinks into the sofa so that when Blaine slides his fingers between Kurt's own and rubs heavy and deliberate against the juncture of his fingers before looping their fingers together and sliding down until they are fingertip to fingertip, Kurt feels it in his dick and he can't help it, he has to turn his head to look.

Blaine is staring at him, one cheek resting on the back of the sofa and the other lit by the TV, but his eyes are dark and his mouth is soft as their hands slot together palm to palm with fingers interlaced, Blaine's thumb rubbing soft and steady over the side of his hand. There was a time after their breakup when they'd been so careful not to touch each other and that time has been over for a while, but Kurt's still very aware of where the lines are, of what's a friendly touch and what's something else and this... this isn't a hug or a pat on the shoulder or even perching on somebody's lap when there aren't enough chairs. This is deliberate, a statement of intent, and the look on Blaine's face makes him want to brace for it.

Kurt can't take it, it's too intense, so he turns back to the television to watch without seeing and concentrate on the feeling of their hands. He's almost 23 years old and the first boy who ever took his hand has taken it again, so sweetly, and it doesn't seem to matter how much sex he's had in the interim, how many ways he's opened his body or seen others do the same for him, because he's suddenly right back to 16, when hand-holding had seemed the most intimate thing two people could do, and he's simultaneously terrified and desperate to feel and remember every moment of contact. It seems like such a chaste thing to him now, holding hands, and he hasn't done all that much of it in the last couple years. But this is Blaine, and everything about the way he's touching him feels intimate, sexual and exploratory, like when Blaine touches his hands, he's thinking about touching him _everywhere_.

He looks back to see Blaine facing forward again. It's funny – they've known each other for so long, they still know so much about each other, but right now all that means is that he can see the trouble etched across Blaine's brow and at the corners of his eyes and mouth, but he can only guess at the cause. He squeezes Blaine's hand and rubs his thumb across his knuckles just once, and Blaine turns back to face him.

He hears the music change just as their eyes meet again in the low light and the moment feels pregnant with possibility. Kurt feels heavy with it, his body boneless and pressed into the cushions with the relief of inevitability and the promise of this man's body on his. Blaine holds his eyes, and Kurt can see his lips purse lazily into a soundless whisper of his name and his mouth is still so beautiful. He's thinking about leaning over to taste it, just to see, when everybody bursts out laughing and he hears David say, "oh, man, I can't believe Blaine is missing this," and the moment is shattered.

Blaine holds his eyes and squeezes his hand one more time before he extricates his own and gives Kurt a sad smile before turning away to face the room more fully. "Yeah, laugh it up Williams – you're still sporting the same haircut from high school." Kurt feels off-balance – that whole thing can't have taken more than 5 minutes total but he feels like he's reeling until Blaine pushes back toward him with his leg, sliding his whole body a little closer and pressing into Kurt. Kurt keeps breathing and smiles at Blaine's faces during "Raise Your Glass".

Later, when everyone is focused on the horror of the New Directions costuming for Nationals and waiting for the disaster of That Kiss, Kurt slides his arm back and around Blaine, draping it over his shoulder and holding his breath for the instant that it takes Blaine to nestle himself into Kurt's side and relax there with a sigh. Later still, Blaine stifles a yawn and when his hand comes down he rests it just above Kurt's knee, his fingers brushing along his inseam while his thumb reaches down to idly trace the shape of Kurt's kneecap through his trousers. It shouldn't be so sexy, but Kurt can't help leaning down, just for a second, to bury his nose in Blaine's hair and just breathe deep.

He thinks about everything they're not saying, and about how much he doesn't _want_ to say it, not yet, how he wants to just stay here in this moment of potential for as long as they can. It doesn't look like it'll be long, because they're not ready to answer questions and somehow they've flown under the radar for this long, but the natives are starting to get restless and it won't be long before they're looking around for the next interesting thing to do.

He reaches down for Blaine's hand and brings it to his lips, and Blaine's fingers squeeze around his own when Kurt presses a soft, slow kiss into his knuckles. "I don't think you should join me tonight, but I might be up for renegotiations later," he whispers into Blaine's hair, and he just nods against his shoulder before Kurt urges him to shift his weight so he can stand.

He stretches. "Mmmm, I think last night is still catching up with me, and we have a long day tomorrow, ladies. I'm for bed." He catches the way Blaine looks at him as he says that and then turns to faceplant into the arm cushion of the sofa with a muffled groan, and he can't help reaching down to ruffle his hair. "Night, all!"

Mercedes gives him a look, and Tina and David are looking at him and Blaine and each other speculatively, but Rachel is captivated by her own performance on the screen and everybody else is eating popcorn and seems to be amused by her, so they just wave him on.

His bed feels bigger, emptier that night, but there's a lot to think about, and he lets himself smile just a little as he falls asleep.


	4. Tuesday

He wakes to Tina letting herself into his room; she's still dressed in boxer shorts and a tank top, and her hair is tied in two low pigtails

"Good morning."

"Morning. What time is it?"

"It's just after 8. I think everybody else is still sleeping, but I couldn't stay in bed any longer. It's dress day!" Her voice is hushed, filled with barely suppressed excitement, and Kurt smiles into a stretch.

"It _is_ dress day. When's the last time you tried it on?"

"Not since the final fitting. I didn't want to ruin it."

"Admirable restraint; I'm impressed."

"I'm not a moron, Kurt."

"No, I know. Sorry. I just... it's your wedding dress. It's a big deal."

"I know." She grinned down at him. "Can we do it now?"

He pulled a face. "Now?"

"Kuuuuurt!"

"Okay, now! Where is it, anyway? You haven't been keeping it in your room, have you? For David to see?"

"Are you kidding? He doesn't have a romantic bone in his body – he'd be peeking in there without even waiting for me to leave the room." Kurt suppresses a smile, thinking about the sweet serenade Blaine had told him about the night before. "It's wrapped and hanging in Mercedes and Rachel's room."

"Hmmm. Is she up yet?"

"I'm not sure."

"Go get the dress, and bring her back with you. We'll do the fitting in here – you can change in the bathroom."

He's up and back out of the bathroom by the time she makes it back, struggling to clear the doorway with the dress still wrapped in its bag. Her face is lit up, excited, and he can't even resent the early morning wake-up when she looks like that.

Mercedes drags in and faceplants onto his bed while Tina is getting dressed. "Doesn't she need your help getting into that?"

"At this hour, she can bring her undressed self out here if she needs help."

"Remind me to never ask you to be _my_ maid of honor," he quips, even as his hand is pushing into her hair for a stroke while she snuggles more into his discarded pillow.

Tina shuffles out of the bathroom with her arms twisted behind her, and Kurt moves around to do the zip for her while Mercedes cracks an eye and squints up at them.

Kurt spins around her and holds her hands out to the side, looking her up and down. "Cups sewn in?"

"Yep. The seamstress did that, and added detachable straps, and took it up at the waist and the hem."

"How does it feel? Can you sit?"

She perches on the edge of the bed, holding herself tense and upright, and there's not so much as a pucker at the waist.

"No, I mean _really_ sit. Are you going to sit like that while you're half-drunk and exhausted from dancing?"

She slides back onto the bed, sprawling back against Mercedes to prop her up. Mercedes laughs and shoves at her, and she just leans back harder, throwing her arms out to the side and stretching into it.

"How does it look when I'm _really sitting_?"

"The dress looks like a dream. You, however, look like you've just puked from too much champagne."

Tina turns her head so she's facing Mercedes. "Remember how sarcastic and bitchy he was in high school?"

Mercedes slings an arm over Tina's shoulder. "We're so lucky that he grew out of that."

While they're giving him endless shit, he's grinning and digging his phone out of his pocket, and the moment they look back his way he snaps a photo – Mercedes' hair is everywhere, Tina's slouching in her wedding dress and pigtails, and there's not a swipe of makeup to be seen. They look gorgeous.

Tina comes after his phone with vengeance in her voice until he grabs her by the shoulders and bends to look into her eyes. "Your dress, girl. _Your dress,_ " he says, and she just crushes him in her arms.

When she pulls back, she says, "Yes?"

And he nods. "Absolutely. Now. Shoes, hair, makeup, jewelry?"

She grins at him and claps her hands together. "Shopping?"

Two hours later they've made their excuses to the rest of the house and they're almost to Cleveland in Kurt's Navigator, chatting a mile-a-minute while the radio drones beneath them. Tina and Kurt have finally managed to hear the entire inglorious last chapter of Mercedes-and-Mitchell, and Tina has given Kurt the "ask me later" look, so he knows there's something missing. Finally Mercedes says, "You know, the hell of it is that Mitchell isn't even... I mean, he's good in bed, don't get me wrong," and Kurt winks at her, "and we have a good time when we're together. But I don't think...." She drifts off.

He finally pulls the car into a parking space, and Mercedes' last words are still hanging in the air. "He's not your love story, princess."

She looks at Kurt, and then at Tina, and her jaw hardens. "Maybe not everybody gets a love story."

"That's probably true," he concedes. "That doesn't mean I'm accepting anything less than that for any of us."

Mercedes just raises a brow at him. "That's very interesting. Tell me about your love story, Kurt. You been holding out on us?"

Tina chimes in. "That's a very good point. Are we actually in the _middle_ of your love story?" Her grin is positively terrifying.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, tucking his sunglasses into their case.

"You had your arm around Blaine last night." Mercedes says it like she's presenting facts in a courtroom.

"Shut up! When I saw them they were just holding hands!"

"Ohhh, girl, you missed it, then. Kurt had his arm around Blaine's shoulders, and Blaine's hand was clutching his knee, and they both looked like were ready to pass out in each other's arms. That was some grade-A sexual tension."

"Ladies," he interrupts before Tina can respond. "We need to stay focused. You" and he jabs a finger in Tina's direction "are getting married in _five days_ , and at this point you'll be walking down that dock in bare feet, which is not a look that I can endorse. And you," he says, sweeping his gaze to Mercedes "are the maid of honor, and you still don't even have a dress, for goodness sake. Now. Priorities. Everybody out of the car."

They grumble, but they obey, because some training never quite fades. Tina sweeps around the car to take his arm as he locks the door, and sweetly says, "That's okay, honey. We have a long drive back."

–––

Nine grueling, exhilarating hours later they're back in the car. Mercedes has shucked off her shoes and is rubbing at the balls of her feet, and Tina has kicked back in the back seat to loll her head against the window. They're all exhausted, but it's been a good day. They've found perfect little ivory slingbacks with a low, easy heel for Tina, as well as a thin jeweled headband ("Rachel will try to steal that from you; guard it with your _life_ ") that Kurt can tuck veiling into for the ceremony. For Mercedes they've bought lavender chiffon, the flowy skirt showing off her killer legs and the halter style neckline leaving her glowing shoulders bare, with caramel shoes that make her legs go on _forever_. There's new waterproof mascara and eyeliner and probably too many accessories, bags and hair combs and everything they'll need to sparkle. They're going to be _perfect_.

They're just outside of Cleveland on I–90 when Mercedes abruptly turns and says, "Okay, spill it."

He's quiet for just a moment, until Tina's sleepy voice says, "Really, Kurt. It's time."

He thinks for a minute before he sighs and says, "I don't know what to tell you. Yes, that happened. No, I don't know what's going on. That was all Blaine." He glances at Mercedes, who doesn't seem impressed by his response. "What do you want? If I'm looking for a fuck, it's not like I'm going to be looking in his direction."

"You mean again."

"I do. There was nothing about that that I want to do again." Even as he says it, he knows it's a lie. He wants Blaine's hands back on him, wants to taste his mouth and his skin, wants to bury his hands and his face and his dick in him and stay there for as long as he can. None of that is the point, though, because this is not somebody it will _ever_ be that easy with.

Tina suddenly slides forward so that she's leaning between the seats. "What if it's not about sex, Kurt? What if he wants to be with you?"

"First of all: it's _always_ about sex, at least a little bit. And if it's more than that: how is that supposed to work? I don't have any idea where he's going to grad school, but you said he was happy in Columbus; I can only guess he'll stay somewhere in the Midwest. My work is the opposite of mobile and, besides that, fuck, I _love_ New York." Tina doesn't meet his eyes in the rear view mirror, and just like that his heart splinters. He hadn't realized how much he's been hoping, in some small and immature way, that this _could_ be something. Tina looks uncomfortable, maybe even sad, and he knows, then – this isn't happening. Last night had been wonderful and very exciting, but it can't happen.

"More than you love Blaine?" Mercedes throws back.

"What are you even _talking_ about? I haven't been in love with him for years."

Mercedes give him a look. "Do you think you're funny?"

He gives her his bitch look in response, but she goes on. "Look. Kurt. I know you're not that boy from high school anymore, that you're not still the junior prom queen. You have moved up and on and I don't even want to know how many men you've slept with, because that's kind of nasty and it just makes me sad." He rolls his eyes. "Fine, you make that face, but I remember the boy you used to be, that sweet boy who just wanted somebody wonderful to love you, and baby, _you found him_. You found him five years ago and the two of you managed to fuck it up, and he's still here, and he still makes you crazy. Do you know what I would give to feel that way about somebody again? You're a fool if you're too chickenshit to at least _try_."

Kurt drives.

"She's right. And Kurt, you still make _him_ crazy. I can't... you _really_ need to talk to him."

He sighs. "You don't understand. I'm not that boy anymore and besides that –." He breaks off and is quiet before he says, "You don't know how fucked up that was, and just be glad it's better now than it was."

Tina locks eyes with him in the rearview mirror. "That's bullshit. That boy is still a part of you. And I know more than you realize, Kurt."

He narrows his eyes, darting his gaze back and forth between the road and the mirror. "What do you know?"

"Nothing you couldn't find out, if you just had the balls to do it," she says, flopping back into the seat with a look of defiance across her face.

They're quiet for the rest of the drive.

By the time they pull up to the house it's after nine, and the front porch lights are blazing. Blaine is sitting on the steps fooling around on his guitar, his laptop open next to him.

He shakes Tina awake and they all pile out, going to the back of the Navigator to collect their packages. They leave Kurt to struggle with everything that isn't Mercedes' dress, so that that by the time he makes it to the stairs Blaine is laughing and closing up his laptop, trying to stop Tina from grabbing a sneak peek at parts of his playlist. "It's not ready yet, Tina! Thursday, we said Thursday!"

"It's my wedding! It has to be perfect, Blaine! Just a hint?"

Mercedes, bless her, just rolls her eyes and says, "Come on, Bridezilla. Let's get you inside before your sense of entitlement swells any more – Kurt's not going to be able to bake the cake _and_ alter your dress again before Saturday," and she pokes her with her dress hanger.

"Fine, fine. I see how it is. You invite your friends to help you with your _very special occasion_ and then they tell you nothing," but Tina smiles and walks into the house, chattering about how eager she is to hang this thing up.

Kurt drops the bags on the porch and drops next to Blaine on the stairs. "Working on the arrangement?"

"Mmmm, yeah, just tinkering a little bit – no real changes, just thinking about the balance of voices." He's quiet as he starts picking out the opening notes of the song on his guitar. "How was your day?"

Kurt sighs. "Insane. But, on the plus side, Tina's finally fully dressed for Saturday, and we found a dress for Mercedes that I just need to take up a little tomorrow. I think their clothes are mostly done, although I still need to think about hair and makeup." His voice drifts softer and lower as the notes come up behind him, his own accompaniment, and the guitar sounds beautiful as it echoes in the night. He watches Blaine's fingers moving over the frets and strings, strong and square, and he thinks about the way they had touched him last night. Blaine had picked up the guitar their senior year of high school, and Kurt remembers watching him learn to curl around the instrument, remembers the night they'd been so into each other that neither of them had noticed that Blaine's fingertips had started to bleed again until he'd already left trails across Kurt's torso. The calluses are still there, and Blaine is still beautiful in motion, so _easy_ and at home in himself when he plays.

Blaine's playing stops, and when Kurt looks up Blaine is watching him. "Kurt, can we take a walk, talk or something?"

Kurt looks at him, thinks about all the different kinds of trouble they could get each other into, and sighs. "That's probably a good idea." He pauses for a moment, staring down at the way Blaine's hands have curled around his guitar. "I know a place – come on."

Blaine sets his guitar to the side and Kurt pulls him up, dropping his hand as they walk the few minutes down to the pier. The moon is out and the mosquitoes haven't started swarming for the summer and it's quiet, just the sound of the water against the shore. "This is where Tina wants to have the ceremony – it's a beautiful spot, and I can't blame her. Rachel might be a little over–enthusiastic, but she wasn't wrong – it's like the chuppah was made for this spot."

"It's beautiful," Blaine says, and then he kicks off his shoes and goes to sit at the end and dangle his feet. Kurt shrugs and kicks off his loafers before he joins him. Blaine takes his hand again, and they just sit together.

For kind of a long time, actually. Blaine's just looking down at his hand, and now that there's no audience he's brought both of them into play, using one to cup Kurt's hand, while he traces patterns across his open palm, following the lines and swirling gently across it. He starts out looking happy, a little blissed out, but the longer they sit, the more troubled his face becomes.

"Blaine, what are we doing?"

He keeps looking at their hands, although he stops the stroking and just clasps Kurt's hands between both of his own. "Kurt, I... God. I've thought about this so much, I think about _you_ so much. I want to be with you. I still... don't you? I thought maybe – Tina said she thought – I just...." Kurt has never seen Blaine quite this flustered. This was a boy whose crisis of sexuality had been thoughtfully and fluently argued, the boy who'd once told him, so tenderly and easily, that he _loved_ him. He must be really thrown for a loop to be this inarticulate.

He knows the feeling – he's reeling, but after everything they've been through, all the ways they've hurt each other, it's easy to say, "A lot has happened. We can't just go back now and change it all – all of that _happened_ and I can't do this for just a few days, even for a very romantic long weekend. That summer shouldn't have happened." He pauses and watches the water washing gently against the uprights of the pier. "I was watching us last night, in those videos. What we had was _real_ , it was intense and as solid as anything can be at that age, and then it was over." He waves a hand, taking in the water and the two of them there. "This is just a dream, it can't –"

"It was you. And – Columbia," Blaine interrupts.

Kurt just blinks at him, confused.

"Rachel asked where I was going to grad school. Columbia – I got into Columbia. I'm going out next month to find a place to live, but from August on, I'm living in New York." The line of his jaw is determined, set.

And all of a sudden, Kurt gets it – Blaine is coming to New York. He might be years too late, but he's finally doing it, he's taking that first step and he's going to be _right there_. And he still has no idea what any of it means, and he's _angry_ that Blaine can still do this to him, and he has so many questions and, somehow, absolutely nothing to say.

"Congratulations," he finally offers. "I – it's a good school, I think."

"Columbia, NYU, and Brooklyn. Those were my top three choices, although I applied to Cornell and Rutgers too, just in case. I just – _Kurt_ ," and his voice is so desperate, he looks so animated and a little bit broken – he looks like he's about to cry. "I don't want just this weekend. Can we try, just, let's see –"

Somewhere in the middle Kurt gives up, because he's desperate to shut him up, desperate to get out of this, so he does what he knows and he kisses him.

It's gentle, messy at first because Blaine's still talking, but his voice rolls over into a low moan just as his hands push into Kurt's hair to hold his head in place. He may have initiated the kiss but Blaine makes it his quickly, turning Kurt's head and sliding his hands down to cradle his face. Michael had done that a lot, too, and it had always felt presumptuous, fake and feigned. He'd forgotten how much he loved it when Blaine would cup his jaw and his fingers would splay up to his temples, gentle but strong, like his face was something precious, something beloved.

He opens his mouth, needing the kiss to be stronger, deeper, because all he can think is that they're here, they're here again and this is _everything_. He _wants_ , god, he wants it _all_ , and when Blaine licks into his mouth, fierce and wet and hot he groans from the bottom of his belly and pushes, urging Blaine onto his back right there on the pier. Blaine slides his hands back into Kurt's hair, gripping and pulling him along with him, whining into the kiss and god, he goes, he's going, nothing could keep him away. He rolls into a straddle, pulling his legs up and over so that he's on his knees over Blaine, so that he can get his hands into Blaine's hair and lean down over him and plant kisses over his face, across his eyelids and his jawline and down over to his ear. Blaine is moaning and breathing harshly and "oh, god, oh my god, Kurt, please, please just – " and he tightens his grip in Kurt's hair and pulls him back in for another kiss. Kurt can't help it, he knows it's too soon but he carefully slides his knees down so that he can grind against Blaine, just one time because he fucking _needs_ it. Blaine rips his mouth away and groans so harshly that he sounds gutted, so he rolls his hips again and Blaine moans out loud and it echoes through the night, so one more time and then Blaine is pushing, rolling them and Kurt is lying there on his side on the pier.

He blinks at Blaine, who's lying there beside him propped up on an elbow, whose mouth is dark in the moonlight and wet, so wet, and his eyes are huge and he's talking, his words and his breath coming out in stutters. "Jesus fuck, Kurt, you just – fuck," and his hands are pushing into Kurt's shirt, pulling it out of his shorts to slide underneath, and the roughness of Blaine's hands sliding across his belly makes Kurt gasp and fuck, he's so hard, so his hips buck up once and Blaine is just watching him with wide eyes and his hand stills.

Kurt whines, reaching for him, and Blaine comes but he settles himself into the crook of Kurt's shoulder and whispers, "Shhh, shhh, listen."

Kurt groans and Blaine just shushes him, pressing soft kisses against the skin of his neck and god, he still wants to fuck, to lay his hands all over Blaine and relearn every inch of him, and he wants Blaine all over him, wants that hand that's still resting on his belly to slide and tease and pinch and press. But it's good, lying here – he can see the stars, and hear the way he and Blaine are breathing, ragged but easing up just a little, and Blaine starts talking.

" _God_ , I want you. You just – you're so fucking hot for it, and I can't wait to watch you fall apart and see how it compares to what I remember, see what you're like now, what you've learned. I still jerk off to that, thinking about how you looked when you were going down on me for the first time – remember that day?" Blaine's starting to rub slow circles on his belly, and of course Kurt remembers – he'd felt nervous and a little scared and sure that he was doing it wrong and his jaw had ached but the taste and the _feel_ of him was incredible. And he gets it – Blaine is slowing them down, because he has things he wants to say, but still. He grabs Blaine's hair and drags him up into a kiss that starts out hot, because that memory is an important one for him, too – his first taste of cock, and it had been a heady vindication that yes, this, _this_. The memory can still make his mouth water.

Blaine pulls away, panting. "Fuck. But, also, I... I'm – _I'm in love with you_." Blaine just looks at him. "This... if we're really really lucky, and we still fit as well as I think we will, and this all works out.... As ridiculous as it may sound, I want this to be my last first time, Kurt. I don't ever want sex with you to be about relief and gratitude," he says, brushing some hair out of Kurt's eyes before flopping down on his back and finding his hand again.

Kurt blinks at him for a moment, waylaid once again by Blaine's bright and effortless admission. It's so _tempting_ , is the thing. Kurt's not that sweet romantic boy anymore, he'd told Tina and Mercedes as much just over an hour ago, but they must have been right - that boy must still be in him somewhere, because what Blaine's giving him he's so fucking eager to just _take_ , to snatch it up with both hands and run with it.

But it's terrifying, too. Three years ago he'd ended a promising relationship with Michael, beautiful sweet Michael, who had carried him through the end of freshman year and then been dumped for his trouble, because he had told Kurt that he loved him and Kurt couldn't say it back, didn't even want to, had been annoyed by the presumption.

He should feel that way now. It's too soon for Blaine to say that, way too soon, but he can't be angry. He just can't, because everything within him just wants to hear him say it again. He wants it for his younger self, so he can be right, so Blaine can be _wrong_ , but he wants it for himself now, too, so he can be loved, so that this man who had never left his mind, never left his _heart_ , can be his again.

Blaine's turned his head to the side and is watching him, his anguish at Kurt's silence deepening by the second, and Kurt says, "Blaine, it's been so _long_. How can you say that? Do you even... what does that even _mean_?" before he turns to look at the sky.

From the corner of his hooded eyes he can see Blaine still staring at him, his eyes bright, and then Blaine takes a deep breath and says, his voice quiet and so earnest, "It means that I still think about you, all the time. It means that I sit beside Tina and wait for her to say your name." He pauses and chances a quick glance up at the sky and then back down, and then the rest comes out in a rush. "It means that I dress to see you and I plan what I'm going to say and then I watch you, and I wonder what you're thinking, and I wonder if you're happy. I wonder who you're sleeping with and hate him, hate _them_ on principle, because if I had you in my bed again, just one more time, I'd never let you leave in the morning. It means that I fell in love with you five years ago, when we were still mostly kids, and nothing about that has changed except for how it _has_ , because I feel like I know you better now, understand you more even as I see you less often, because I've watched you grow and I've grown myself." Kurt turns his head to look at him, and Blaine smiles, both bitter and sweet, and holds their eye contact with a fierce grimace. "It means that when I gave Ollie that lap dance, at that party, I was hoping you were watching me. And it means that, until I learned how to shut up when I was drunk, I said your name when I was having sex with Ollie, because even though we were young, _so_ goddamned young, sex with you was... it's what it's supposed to feel like. For me."

Kurt steals glances at Blaine's open, honest face while he listens, and he wants to be writing it down because god _damn_ you don't get declarations like that often and he wants to keep this one, _forever_ , but he's also... he's _melting_ , is what it is. He's just falling, all over again, because after everything, after everything that had happened he had somehow let himself forget about this, about Blaine's absolute willingness to risk himself, to lay it all down on the line. And then Blaine starts talking about sex, about that night they'd jumped in David's pool and swam in their underwear and then Blaine had ground his wet ass against Oliver and he'd wanted to _die_ for wanting him and hating him, and then he reminds Kurt, all over again, about the heat of his body, about the way he felt against him, and that's it.

He pushes up and rolls them, pinning Blaine under his body and god, their clothes are going to be ruined at this rate, but at least it's just Blaine's faded OSU t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts rubbing up against the rough planking as Kurt leans down and kisses him hot and dirty, shoving up to his elbows so he can get his hands into Blaine's thick hair. He pulls away, kissing down to his jaw again, and he whispers, "no more being quiet – let me hear it," before sucking a kiss into that spot low on Blaine's throat, the one he'd first found on another summer day so many years ago.

And it still works – it lights Blaine's body up and has him surging up against him, calling out for him, "Kurt, fuck, shit – oh, god, Kurt, Kurt" and he's just going for it now, taking the ride that Blaine is giving him and it's so juvenile, just frotting against him like they were teenagers again, but there's time for more and this is where they started out, and it's so _hot_ , stripped back to that place where they just can't get enough of each other. Blaine's clutching at his back, his words giving way to panting and deep groans while his hips work and his leg comes up to wrap around Kurt's ass and push him closer, tighter. Kurt rolls his hips and licks hot and wet up Blaine's neck to suck and nip at his earlobe and he can feel Blaine's nails through his shirt when he finally goes tense all over and moans long and loud and if that sound doesn't carry across the water he'll be shocked.

He rolls off of Blaine and pulls him toward him so he'll be able to breathe as he comes down – he wants to keep him close, _needs_ him right there with him but he can't bear to crush him. Blaine's breathing is still far from steady and his eyes are screwed shut, and Kurt can't keep from rubbing gently against him; Blaine post-orgasm has always been arousing as hell, so loose and flushed and happy. He's already thinking about the next time, because this summer he's not stopping at once – he can't wait to get him naked, to bite at the curve of his bicep and trace his tongue down his belly and dig firm fingers into the muscles of his thighs, to see more of his skin stretched out under the lights, and it makes him groan and snake his hand down to press against the front of his shorts. Blaine's eyes drift open at the movement and he's suddenly alert, reaching out to grab Kurt's wrist and drag his hand away, replacing it with his own. Blaine's eyes stay locked on his as begins to grind his hand down, and Kurt can't look away from his messy hair, his dark eyes and wet mouth; the look in his eyes is intense, possessive, and Kurt falls onto his back, gasping for breath, but with his head turned to Blaine, just staring.

"Kurt, you – fuck, I need to – " and then Blaine's reaching for the button on his shorts, pulling it open and reaching in, using his wrist to push down the zipper so he can wrap his hand around his dick. His hand is warm, the callouses just the right kind of friction, and he starts pulling right away. "Fuck, you're just so –" and Kurt looks from the ripple of his forearm to his face, his mouth, to his eyes where they're locked on Kurt and he says, "oh, god, _Blaine_ " and that's it, he's gone, spilling over Blaine's hand and all over his clothes, and he's warm and his _toes_ are tingling and his shoulders ache from where he's arching up, over and over, fucking into Blaine's hand and clinging to his shoulder until he can't take it anymore, he needs to lie down, and he lets his arms fall to his side.

Blaine flops down next to him again, wiping his hand on his wrecked t-shirt, and they just gaze up at the sky, waiting for their breathing to slow down.

Kurt finally breaks the silence. "You swear more than I remember."

"Mmmm, better to say 'fuck' than 'Kurt' – I think it's become a habit." Kurt smiles. "You've grown into your dick."

Kurt smirks. "And you're broader. And hairier." He rolls onto his side to look at Blaine, propping himself up on an elbow. "I like it. I like all of it, although you should feel free to shout my name when you come." He leans in to drop a kiss on Blaine's neck. "God, you're still so damn _sexy_."

Blaine reaches to pull him into a kiss as he breathes out his name, and it's full of sweetness and gentle affection, and he can't help it, he _wants_ it. Kurt's just so tired of regret and maybe he'll regret this later but for now he can't bear to think of it. Except...

He breaks the kiss. "Seriously, you can't ever tell David about this."

Blaine just laughs. "You have overestimated the level of sharing in that friendship. What, are you thinking about how you'll have to lie to Tina?"

Kurt just smirks. "I'll tell her someday. It'd be a nice anniversary gift, don't you think, telling her that on the spot she got married we'd consummated our burning passion for each other just days earlier?"

He smiles at him. "Tell her it's where we 'made love'. You'll get the bonus of turning her stomach," Blaine says, and his smile is sweet, gentle, so _earnest_.

Kurt runs his fingers through Blaine's hair and looks at him. There are so many things he can't quite bring himself to feel or say right now; he doesn't trust himself with it. Instead he leans down and kisses Blaine, dragging "stay with me tonight?" across his mouth, feeling the risk of every word and every sweet clink of their lips.

Blaine nods. "Not yet, though. Stay here for a minute," he says, and he pulls Kurt into strong arms, pillowing his head against his broader shoulder. Kurt listens to Blaine's heartbeat, the warm sounds of the contentment of his body mixing with the lapping of the water against the pier, and when he lets his body go soft, languid, content, he knows he's in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The art in this chapter was created by artsnletters over on LJ. Her Master Art Post is [here](http://artsnletters.livejournal.com/20763.html) \- go tell her what an amazing job she did!)


	5. Wednesday

Kurt opens his eyes to sun streaming into the window and groans, just a little, at the ache in his back. He and Blaine had woken up on the dock sometime after midnight, stiff and cold, and had hauled themselves up to wander, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, back to the house. All the bags were still sitting there on the front porch, as well as Blaine's laptop and his guitar, and he heard laughter coming from the living room. They'd only just managed to shove everything inside the front door of the house and stumble up the stairs unseen before they stripped down to underwear (and Kurt had loaned Blaine a pair), climbed into Kurt's bed, and passed out again.

He's glad to have a few minutes to just lie there before he has to get started on the day, because he has a lot to think about.

Blaine says he still loves him.

Some small, dark part of himself thrills at that, because for so long he'd thought that he hadn't, that he never could have loved him if he'd done what he had. The whole thing had been so confused and so fucking _painful_ , and the last few months of his time in high school – from the moment Blaine had come to his front porch late one night in April and tearfully dropped the bombshell that he wasn't going to NYU because he was staying to go to OSU instead, right up until prom night when they'd fought on that porch all over again and then broken up – was a period of time Kurt tried not to spend too much time considering. There had been so many arguments, so many miscommunications and so much painful confusion, and by June he'd been bitter and resentful and so fucking eager to get out of Ohio that he'd decided to opt for summer school, and left town as soon as he could.

He'd jumped into New York the way so many had, celebrating it not just for itself but as part of his grand escape plan, and he'd drifted through that first summer almost numb from everything he'd left behind. He'd started his New York City blog when he'd started school, thrown himself into the experience with everything he had, and it had helped. Michael, too, had been a gift, but by the time he'd realized it wasn't ever going to work the way he wanted it to – that it wouldn't ever _feel_ the way he wanted it to – he'd taken control of that part of his life, and stopped letting other people in so easily.

Going back to Lima was never going to be easy, but going straight from a break up with Michael to almost constant contact with Blaine made everything so much more difficult. Once that summer was behind him, once he'd allowed himself that one last fling with Blaine, he felt so _different_ – harder, more brittle, but determined to stop feeling bad about himself. Blaine had been his first love, but he'd also been his first hook-up, and he wasn't the last.

Blaine stirs next to him, and Kurt turns to face him. It's not a view that Kurt's had enough of in his life – he's seen a fair few men wake up, some of them better looking or objectively hotter than Blaine, but none so absolutely fundamental to him. His hair is a mess, his jaw dark with stubble where it hangs slightly ajar, and he's seen Blaine like this just a time or two; chances to share a bed had been rare in high school, and in fact it had been one of the things they'd daydreamed about when they'd been planning to end up in college together. It seems like such a long time ago, and it's bittersweet to remember.

Blaine's eyes flutter open, and Kurt watches him take a moment to come back to himself; he can see the second he realizes Kurt is watching him because suddenly he's wearing the most beautiful sleepy smile. "Hi," he whispers.

"Good morning," Kurt says back, and then they're just lying there, inches away from each other and they can't stop staring. Blaine reaches out to touch his face, feathering his fingertips across his hairline, over his ear, down his jaw, and Kurt shivers as those fingers delicately move down his neck and tickle over his collarbones to slide over his shoulder and gently tug.

"C'mere," Blaine mutters, sleep thick in his voice.

Kurt just smiles. "I don't know, I'm pretty comfortable here. Maybe _you_ should come _here_."

Blaine squeezes his shoulder and pulls harder, saying, "Columbia, remember? You can move the three inches this morning," and Kurt just rolls into it, too stunned to continue resisting.

He settles against Blaine's bare shoulder, his face turned toward him, and his hand hesitates before it rests on Blaine's chest, splaying wide across his heart before he begins playing with Blaine's chest hair. There's more than he remembers, and it's thick and dark and, on Blaine at least, so appealing. His legs tangle with Blaine's and the arm that's wrapped around him sweeps long and deep over his back, coming to cup his shoulder and pull him in a little tighter. Blaine groans, "god, you feel good," and drops a kiss in his hair before he lets his head fall back to the pillow and sighs. "You feel really good. Let's never get out of bed."

Kurt huffs out a laugh. "They'd just come looking."

"Let them. It's worth it. I'm not looking forward to letting you go again, even if it's just for the day."

They fall quiet for a few minutes, waking up to each other, stroking gently and just breathing. There's so much between them, so much that's already gone by but so much potential, too, and Kurt thinks he's ready to let the past go, to carry on and move forward, but still he has to ask – "You have to tell me what happened."

Blaine is quiet for a second, but he doesn't act like he doesn't know what Kurt's talking about, at least. He drops a kiss to Kurt's hair and sighs. "My dad. My dad, and money."

Kurt is quiet while the whole story spills out, about how Blaine's dad hadn't wanted him at NYU in the first place, about how close Blaine's dad's company had come to losing it all back in the early part of the decade, about the scholarship he'd been offered at Ohio State and his grandfather's legacy there and his dad's insistence that he take what was on offer, because he wasn't interested in raiding his retirement to fund Blaine through four years of living with his boyfriend on the East Coast. It's a messy story, and Blaine's bitterness is evident, but all Kurt can think is, "Why didn't you tell me all of this?"

Blaine just scrubs at his face with his free hand. "Because you never asked," and there's some more of that bitterness.

Kurt goes to pull away, and Blaine just holds him there with the hand that's clasped on his shoulder and says in a low voice, "No. We need to do this, but stay here this time." Kurt is stung, and he feels his mouth set in a hard line, the hand on Blaine's chest pull into a fist. Blaine's hand comes up to cover it, his thumb brushing soft and tender across Kurt's curled knuckles. " _Please_ ," he whispers, and fuck it, maybe Blaine's right – the contact keeps him a little looser, makes it impossible for him to build up a good head of steam, and as earned as his indignation might be, this just feels too good to let go quite yet.

So Kurt just stays there, body taut, and says into his chest, "What are you _talking_ about? I must have asked you 100 times that month, and all you ever said was, 'it's just not possible' and 'I can't'."

"And 'believe me, it's not that I don't want to' and 'Kurt, I love you, it doesn't have to be like this'. And what you asked was always, 'how could you do this to me' and 'don't you love me' – it wasn't – I just _couldn't_." Blaine sighs again. "It's stupid, I know – looking back, I feel like such an asshole about it. But I didn't know how to tell you how fucked up it all was – I wasn't used to money being an issue, for one thing, and I was embarrassed about that. And it was harder then, dealing with my dad – so much of what went on between me and him left me feeling like it was all my fault, and by then he was angry about _everything_ and had taken to saying snide things about you, about us, and I just... I couldn't just _tell_ you. I thought... I kept remembering what you said that day, 'I'm never saying goodbye to you', and I just never thought it could get that bad. And then once it was done, once you had left and left _me_ , I was just... god, _so_ angry."

Kurt lies there for a long time. Blaine's thumb continues to rub across his hand and his other hand comes up to sink into the back of Kurt's hair, to hold him there, and he just thinks back, lets himself really probe those six weeks of painful in-between.

Most of what he remembers is feeling incredibly injured, like Blaine had done this _to him_ , like he'd just thrown away everything they had, and he's been aware for a while just how that has lingered, how reticent he's been to ever even _try_ to understand. He lies there and tries to imagine now what Blaine might have been through, how he must have felt to have his own dreams shattered and torn away and to have his boyfriend refuse to work through it _with_ him, and he's suddenly so ashamed. God, he'd been such a self–righteous dick at 18, and he really hopes that's been beaten out of him, because if he's lucky enough to have people who still care about him after all of that, then they definitely deserve better.

He lifts himself onto one elbow, and Blaine's hand tightens again but he keeps his gaze steady on the ceiling. Kurt cups his face with his hand and pulls his head around so that their eyes can meet, and Blaine's eyes are a little glassy with unshed tears – his face is so open, so pained.

"I'm so sorry," he says, and of all the heartfelt words they've ever exchanged, those might be the ones he means the most.

Blaine just whispers, "Me too," and who cares about morning mouth, really, because this kiss is sweet and tender, poignant and a little healing and so _honest_. Blaine's other hand comes up to slide into his hair and hold his head there, and Kurt deepens the kiss and, just for a moment, imagines what it would be like to never let this man go.

They kiss for long, sweaty minutes; the bedroom is heating up as the sun rises more fully and Kurt has to throw off the covers and then kick them down. The kisses are long, lush, exploratory, and Blaine keeps breaking them to say his name or to just look up at him, and Blaine's eyes have gone golden in the light and he can't get enough of the feeling of Blaine's hair between his fingers; he's skipping the gel all together these days, _thank god_ , and it's growing out into thick, wild curls, and he loves it. He finally shifts so that he's more on top of him than not, and he can feel Blaine hard in his underwear and god, that seems like _such_ an amazing idea – he wants to just kiss him and kiss him until they can't take it anymore, until they're desperate for it and they can break apart together.

Blaine suddenly rolls him, and he's afraid it's going to be a reenactment of last night and he doesn't _want_ to slow down to talk again, he's done talking, but Blaine just gathers both of his hands and brings them over his head, leaning his weight on them and hovering over him. He looks beautiful and happy and wild, and then he murmurs, "yeah, I have you where I want you now" before diving back in to kiss him again and gently rock above him. Blaine had quipped about what Kurt might have learned while they'd been apart but this is a new side of Blaine, this kind of raw sexual aggression, and it makes Kurt gasp and wish for his hands to be free so he could cling, clasp, pull him closer. Instead he's just taking what Blaine wants to give him, which appears to be everything.

He pulls up and lowers his head, working his way down Kurt's body, starting at his ears and his jaw and his throat, sucking sweet and soft across his collarbones. He's just dropped Kurt's hands to push himself a little more down the bed and Kurt's sliding his hands back into Blaine's hair when he hears, from the hall,

"WEDDING CAMP 2017 FUCK YEAH, RISE AND SHINE, WEDDING BITCHES" and Tina is banging her way down the hallway, knocking on doors and throwing them open as she passes. Kurt's room is at the far end of the hall, but she's moving fast –

Blaine looks up at him, his eyes wide. "Did you – "

and she hits the door and tries the knob, then jiggles it again. "Kurt?"

He clears his throat, looking up at Blaine as he does, mentally thanking his long history of the _weirdest roommates ever_ for ingraining some good instincts.

"Put the coffee on, Tina – I'll be down in a minute," and she stomps away. Blaine collapses against him and starts giggling, saying in a low voice, "You're a genius, I'll never doubt you again," and then she's back at the door, knocking again, this time a little quieter. "Kurt? Have you seen Blaine?"

His mind goes blank and it's a good fifteen seconds before he can just say, "Coffee, Tina!" and it's quiet for a few seconds and he thinks maybe he's gotten away with it.

"Kurt!" She's going for faux-scandalized but the excited giggling is sort of ruining it. "Oh my god, Kurt, do you have a _boy in there_?"

"Tina, darling, I'm getting in the shower now, and if you don't have coffee by the time I make it to the kitchen, you're eating Sara Lee on Saturday. You're not the only bitch in this house," he calls, but it's hard to get the attitude right when Blaine is crushing him, trying to muffle laughter in his shoulder.

"I understand," she calls back, a little quieter.

"Thanks. And hey, Babycakes – between us?"

"You got it, Mouse." If Mercedes is his Doris, then ever since a long, sweaty Tuesday after their freshman year in college when they'd holed up at his house and watched the entire "Tales of the City" miniseries, Tina has been his Mona – only, as she'd said then, "with strictly theoretical lesbian action. And oh my god, why don't I have her _hair_?"

Blaine is gazing down at Kurt, a smile in his eyes. "Not gonna happen this morning, is it?"

"Alas, no. Although – you're welcome to join me in the shower?" and Kurt hopes he will, even though the shower is small and it's not ideal, but still – to get his hands on all that skin again, he'd put up with a lot.

Blaine looks like he's considering it, too, and his eyes go a little smoky before he pushes himself up and looks down at Kurt. He pulls straight up and goes up to his knees, hovering over and looking down, before he drops back down and runs his hands all the way down Kurt's body, shoulders to hips to knees to feet, two slow parallel lines of contact and warmth, ending with a double squeeze to his feet while he sits back on his heels. "I hate myself for saying this, but I think later? I wanted to get a run in this morning, and maybe not being in the kitchen for the first round of breakfast isn't a terrible idea."

Kurt watches him, stretching a little, and runs his own hands down his torso to his hips, where he lets one drift over the front of his underwear – he knows they need to go, but that doesn't mean he has to like it or make it easy. Blaine groans and dives back on top of him, "god, you're evil," and Kurt just laughs, pushing at him, "no, no, okay, maybe a little – I just wanted you to _feel the pain_ " and Blaine sucks at his neck and rolls his hips and says, "that's what we're calling it now?" and they both collapse into giggles.

Eventually they giggle themselves out, and the mood is still, intimate. Blaine pushes up and looks down at him for just a minute, his eyes warm, and then says, "I am so happy to be back here."

Kurt watches him for a minute and then reaches up to push some hair out of his eyes. "I can't believe it's happening."

Blaine kisses his forehead, his nose, his chin and then leaves a sweet, lingering kiss on his mouth. "We'll work on that. You going back to Lima on Sunday?"

Kurt nods. "Just for a few days, then I have to get back to start work."

"So we have almost two weeks in the same place, and then at least two years, and Kurt, we're going to make the very most of all of it, and then we'll just see what happens next."

And that's something he can spend the day mulling over, so he just kisses him again and smiles when Blaine goes to get up again. Instead of pulling him back to bed he wraps a robe around himself and looks both ways for Blaine before ushering him out and watching his underwear-wrapped ass dash down the hall. It's a delicious way to start the day, really.

–––

By the time Kurt makes it out of the shower and down to breakfast, Tina not only has coffee ready, but she's also plating an egg white and mushroom omelet for him. He smirks as she slides it in front of him; it's so good to drive her crazy, and he can't help it – he's _happy_.

"OK, mister: spill," Tina says as she slumps into a chair, both hands wrapped around a mug and her eyes locked on him.

"Where's everybody else?" he says, flipping open the omelet and adding more pepper.

She rolls her eyes. "We have maybe three minutes before they're all in here, so either do it now or we can discuss this with an audience. I'm sure Rachel would _love_ to know –"

He just laughs. "I always forget how good you are at blackmail. You've gone soft – five years ago you'd have my neck under your boot already."

"Sandals aren't nearly as intimidating, it's true, but I can still take you out, Hummel. So, again: spill it."

He pretends to be absorbed in stirring more skim milk into his coffee so he doesn't have to meet her eyes. "I don't know what to tell you; it's not quite ready for prime-time, I think." He takes a sip of his coffee and sits back in his chair. "But… something, anyway." He just shrugs, and Tina must be able to tell he's not just being cagey, because she just sits up a little and claps her hands together with a little smile and, god, it's so Rachel he can't help but smile. Tina's time with her sorority sisters has changed her, and not all of it has been bad, but it's sometimes still unexpected.

"And he told you about Columbia?" she presses.

"Why yes, _Tina_ , he did. And how long have you known about that, by the way? Yesterday's conversation makes a whole lot more sense now, but a little advance intelligence would have been useful."

She just smiles. "No way, _Kurt_. That was his bombshell to drop; he's been waiting for months to do it." She pauses and reaches to squeeze his hand. "It's been hard, watching both of you. David and I have... _so_ many conversations, you have no _idea_ , and David always wants to stay out of people's business and I don't know what they talk about when it's just the two of them, but.... I'm really glad, for both of you."

He just smiles at her – she's gone _so_ soft, so sweet, so daffy in love. It's lovely, if also a little bit embarrassing. He doesn't tell her to slow down, not to jump to conclusions. He just lets himself pretend he understands what he's doing and lets her come along for the ride.

He should have known better; trust Tina to be able to take the wind out of his sails with the very next sentence. "So, is he still good in bed?" she asks, a mischievous smile on her face. Last summer he'd gotten drunk at a party and used the opportunity to tell both Tina and David about his sex life, both with and after Blaine. It was just another reason to be angry that Blaine hadn't been around that summer, as far as he was concerned.

"Funny you should ask – I was just about to find out when some shrew started banging on my door," he says with a raised brow.

"Oh shit, sorry," she says, eyes wide. "If I'd known I was interrupting _that_ glorious reunion, I'd have... well, no, I would have still done it. Just maybe half an hour later?" She says, biting her lip and raising her brows.

"Half an hour? Hell no – after all this time?" He gives her his best sexy face, which can still make her laugh, and thinks about everything he's not telling her about last night.

She's still laughing when everybody else manages to flood into the kitchen in one giant herd. She's up from her chair in a shot, giving him a wink before she's at the freezer pulling out huge boxes of frozen waffles.

He quickly finishes his breakfast to clear a space for somebody else to slump into his chair and leans against the sink, listening to the chatter fill the room and lazily swiping a dishcloth over his plate. It seems like they'd missed quite a lot last night, another in a long string of epic drunken Apples to Apples battles, and Rachel is still haranguing a defeated and increasingly panicked looking Nicole with why her response of "The Academy Awards" is a superior example of "unhealthy" when Blaine bangs in the kitchen door, sweaty and still breathing deep.

He walks to the cupboard and stretches to grab a clean glass, and Kurt can't be bothered to turn and see if he's the only one who notices how Blaine's running shorts ride up his thighs when he does that, because _fuck_ his legs are still tight. He comes to the sink and steals the tap from Kurt to fill his glass, and he smells like grass and sweat, and Kurt's suddenly concentrating very hard on getting the last bits of egg off his fork and trying to listen in on the conversation behind him. He finishes the first glass of water in one go and it's while he's pouring himself another that he murmurs under his breath, "Good morning again."

Kurt clears his throat and says, "Good morning. Good run?" and he turns to Blaine to see him smiling over his glass before he takes another drink and says, "It was all right. It's beautiful out, but it was hard to get out of bed this morning." Kurt wants _so badly_ to kiss him, to lick into that mouth cool from the water and curl his hands into his wet, sweaty hair and it's all a feeling he's grown used to over the last six years that he's known Blaine. The difference is that he _can_ again, at least he thinks he can, but it's really, really unlikely to go unnoticed, and they haven't talked about this enough yet – just for a little while, he wants to keep it theirs, as much as he can.

So Kurt says, "yeah, I know the feeling," and smiles. He puts the last of his dishes in the drainer and says, "I'm gonna go get those bags out of the hallway," and leaves the kitchen.

He's just made it to the entryway and bent to pick up the bags they'd left there when he hears footsteps behind him. He turns his head, still bent, to see Blaine standing beside him

"Hey, _hey_ ," he says, placing a hand on Kurt's lower back. "What was that?"

And Kurt looks at him, at his hurt and earnest face, and thinks, 'fuck it'. He stands and immediately crowds Blaine against the front door, one hand sliding around his neck to twine into his hair and the other sliding down his thigh to pull those shorts up and work his hand under so he can cup his ass, pulling Blaine into a kiss that's wildly possessive. He's licking into Blaine's mouth, lewd and suggestive, and Blaine's hair is damp around his fingers and so are his shorts, limp and clinging from sweat, and it's been so sweet so far, but suddenly he's thinking of how Blaine smells right now, how it would be to bury his face in his crotch and lick the sweat from his balls and suddenly he feels filthy, wanton with it. He drags his hand down from Blaine's hair and slides it under his waistband, under his underwear, to get a good handful of his ass, and it's round and strong and sticky with sweat. He licks his way down Blaine's neck, lapping up salt and fastening his mouth to the column of Blaine's throat, feeling the vibration in his mouth when Blaine lets out a low moan. They're out of control and it's _perfect_.

Blaine's head tips back to hit the door. "Oh my god, you're gonna kill me. Come upstairs with me," he gasps.

Kurt can't stop his hands from kneading at Blaine's ass. "I can't – everybody will know."

"I _really_ don't give a shit. Do you?"

And it's a terrible idea, it really is – this week is about Tina & David and it doesn't need their drama and they're locked in a _house_ with these people and there is bound to be hell to pay, but Blaine is starting to gently rock against him. He squeezes him tighter, using his hands and his hips to grind hard against him, and Blaine just moans.

Kurt pulls away, scrubbing at his face for just a second, and bends down to swoop up his bags. He's already on the third step when he turns around and sees Blaine collapsed against the front door, a look of confusion on his face. "Well? Are you coming?" he says, and suddenly Blaine is scrambling after him, swearing as he scoops up his guitar case and laptop and hurries after him.

They're not doing a great job taking care of their things, because as soon as they're inside Kurt's room they're once again dropped by the door. Kurt locks the door and starts pushing at Blaine's shorts and underwear immediately, and Blaine swears again and toes off his shoes and throws his shirt on the bed just in time for Kurt to push him down on top of it and kneel to start mouthing at his dick. He licks around, over, laps at his balls and he's still trying to get Blaine's socks off, and Blaine is moaning "please, _Kurt_ ," and then he's completely naked and Kurt is pushing him backwards.

Blaine braces himself up on his arms, flushed and his skin pebbling where his sweat is evaporating in the air conditioning. His cock is _beautiful_ – dark and so hard and already a little wet from Kurt's mouth. There's just no time for romance here – Kurt needs him, needs the smell of him in his nose, so he digs his fingers into his thighs to pulls him closer to the edge of the bed, reaching for his dick and pulling him into his mouth.

Blaine keens above him, sliding a hand into Kurt's hair to hold on, and it's fast and wet. Kurt pulls off once or twice to lick down to his balls, sucking them into his mouth while Blaine moans and flops back against the bed. He slides his hands underneath Blaine for a double handful of his ass, and licks down to where his thumbs have pulled Blaine's cheeks apart and his scent is the strongest so he can lap at his hole, and Blaine swears and groans above him. They've never done this, this level of want is _way_ beyond even their ill-advised summer tryst, but Kurt likes it, likes how Blaine throws his legs up to grasp behind his own knees, likes how he grinds his ass back against his face, how he gasps and swears when Kurt pulls his tongue back into his mouth to get it wet, taking in the strong taste of Blaine and pressing it against the roof of his mouth. Blaine's legs are strong above his head and Kurt slides his hands up to _feel_ them, to dig his fingers into the muscle and hold on.

Blaine's sounding desperate so he licks back up and uses his hands and his mouth on his dick, pulling and sucking and sliding and Blaine lets out one huge groan before he comes, silently, in a full-body spasm. Kurt holds him through it, sliding his arms around his hips in a gentle squeeze, before standing and starting to work on his pants. Blaine blinks and watches with hazy eyes as he undresses and then he pulls his legs up again, ready to be fucked, and god, Kurt wants to take him, wants to watch him squirm and pant underneath him.

Just not yet.

He pushes his knees down with a small shake of his head and straddles Blaine. He's left his shirt on, desperate to just get down to the essentials, and Blaine watches him as he licks his own hand and starts jerking off. He can't stop staring at Blaine's face and Blaine's watching him back, his hands coming up to pet and stroke at Kurt's thighs. "Yeah, Kurt, come the fuck _on_ ," he says, his hands ghosting up and over Kurt's ass, and that's it – he's coming, spilling over Blaine's chest _hard_ , and whining through it all.

Kurt falls to the side, wrecked, but Blaine is right there, using his discarded t–shirt to wipe most of the mess away from his chest and then kissing Kurt, crowding into his space and wrapping him up, and he's devastated, destroyed.

Blaine just kisses him through it and then pulls away, eyes drifting across his face with a sweetly bemused look on his face, and he looks back.

"I missed you," Kurt says.

Blaine reaches up to brush some hair from his face and strokes his hand down his cheek and says nothing.

"No, listen. I _missed_ you."

Blaine wraps him in his arms and says, "Oh, Kurt. I still love you, too."

And that's it – that simply, Kurt gives up all over again, and he buys in. He clings to Blaine, and he lies very still until he's sure he won't cry.

–––

While Blaine's in the shower, Kurt stares at the ceiling for a while and then grabs his tablet and scrolls through his email. Everything looks fine at the magazine – he's got a few more emails from his editor about paperwork, just stuff he needs to fill out to roll over from his blogging and freelance relationship to the more permanent gig, but nothing that can't wait. There are a few new comments awaiting approval on his back columns so he clicks them through. His personal email is a shitshow; there's been another minor roommate dustup – Tara's back to gallivanting about the apartment without pants again, now that it's summer, and Jamie's had it – but he has enough egos to deal with right now, so he sends back a strongly worded email about leaving him out of it when he's not there. He ignores the handful of emails he's received from people he sometimes goes out with; they seem especially unappealing right now.

The water's still running in the shower and he has just a minute, so he clicks over into his personal blog, the one that's _really_ personal, strictly anonymous, and has nothing to do with work. He pauses for a moment, and then he starts typing.

 _I don't think it surprises anybody who's known me at all that I write for a living. It makes some sense, I think – I've always had plenty to say, and have never thought it worthwhile to edit my thoughts before they come out of my sarcastic mouth. And the voice I write in here is authentic – I really am this bitchy. Live in fear, all of that._

 _The irony, of course, is that when there are gentle and tender things I really need to say, I can find myself coming up short._

 _Which is to say, yes, there's a man – The Boy, in fact. We've reunited after a long time apart, and he's sweet and hot as hell and grown into himself. And he's changing his whole life to try to be with me, and I want it – I want **him** , all of him._

 _Once upon a time he helped me learn exactly the right words to say to him, back when I was falling in love for the very first time, back when we were still kids, really. But as I've developed my professional voice and some of my other skills of expression (you're all filthy, filthy people; you're also not wrong) I think I've lost the ability to just **live** through my words, to let them express who I am and what I'm feeling. Or maybe it's more than that; maybe it's just that he's one of the few people I've known who can unlock that in me. I can't tell._

 _What I **really** mean to say is: I'm in love with him, I have **always** been in love with him. I told him that once, I told him 1000 times, and I thought he hadn't heard me._

 _Turns out he did. And now I just need to learn to say it again._

He hits post, watches the page update, and then stares at it for a long time, lost in thought.

–––

By the time Blaine is out of the shower and they're back in the kitchen, everybody else has cleared out except for Tina and David, who are sitting at the table holding hands and talking quietly. When they walk into the kitchen they both stop short, and Tina and David stare at them for a second until Tina bursts out laughing and comes to hug him.

"Oh, you're both just so – can we talk about this _now_?" she says, squeezing Blaine's shoulders.

Kurt hasn't really blushed all that much since high school, but he can feel one rising in his cheeks at the scrutiny. Blaine just rests a hand on his back and steers him to the table, where they both sit while Tina gets new cups of coffee.

Blaine tips his chair back from the table. "What's up? I feel like I'm facing down Burt again," he jokes, but there's tension in his voice.

David clears his throat. "So this is happening now? No more long looks, no more worries and 'he said's?"

"David, I thought you'd be happy. You've been telling me for _years_ that I – "

"I know I did. And you decided to listen to me the week that you're my best man and Tina's counting on Kurt to pull everything together?"

Blaine's just staring at David, and Tina has drifted back over to put a hand on David's shoulder.

"Are you actually _angry_ at me? I'm sorry, David, I didn't realize I had to have your approval for our timetable, but it's the first time we've been in the same place since I –"

"Blaine! Relax. Nobody's angry," Tina says, putting both hands on David's shoulders for a squeeze. "I think he's just anxious, and that's probably my fault. He's... well, Kurt knows. We both want this wedding to be _perfect_ – we've basically pissed off both of our mothers to do it on our own, and I think we're both... more tense than we've been letting on." David just looks up at her with a wide smile and covers one of her hands with one of his. Kurt hates that this conversation is happening but there is a part of him that loves watching them do it together.

"Blaine, man, I just want you to be happy. It's just that there's been... well, look, there's been a lot of unhappiness between the two of you, and the look on your face when Kurt left the room and the way you took off after him – I can't deal with the pining and the puppy–dog eyes this week. Were you two fighting all this time, _already_?"

Kurt just looks at Blaine, who's staring back at him with a bemused smile on his face. He turns to look at Tina, who's grinning but then bursts out laughing. Kurt and Blaine both join her and David just groans and tips his face forward into his hands.

"Man, I can't believe my best man is going to get more action this week than I am," he moans, and Tina just slaps him on the shoulder and says, "David!"

"What?" Blaine and Kurt both blurt out.

"It's _romantic_ ," she says defensively, her face coloring as she crosses her arms across her chest.

"It's _insane_ ," Kurt retorts. "God, no wonder he's snapping at people; the man needs stress relief, Tina!"

"I relieve his stress plenty, thank you very much – "

Blaine holds his hands up and mouths "TMI".

" – and I'll have you know that it's supposed to deepen the marital bond, to come to your wedding day... newly chaste. Well. Sort of," she said, her voice trailing off toward the end and it's clear that at this point, she's not even kidding herself.

Kurt just smirks. "Whatever makes you feel better, Miley Cyrus. I'm just glad I'm not on that regimen, because my very good friend has been possessed by the spirit of Bridezilla, and my stress levels have never been higher."

David has recovered enough to say, "That's my point, though. It hardly seems fair that this week I'm going to be suffering through this while you guys are... doing whatever it is you're doing. God _damn_ it, Tina – are you sure this is a good idea?" and he just looks up at her, eyes pleading, but Kurt could have told him that ganging up on Tina was a sure way to shut her down, and it's probably worth taking some time to try to have that talk with him sometime. She just folds her arms and raises her chin and, yeah, good luck with that.

Blaine pipes in, "Well... I guess we could..."

"Blaine!" Kurt interjects. "What are you doing?" But David and Blaine have locked eyes and are assessing each other like only two brothers can.

"No fucking?" and David holds out his fist to bump, and Blaine gives him a level look and a nod and bumps it, "no fucking," and they stand for a ridiculous bro-hug that leaves Tina beaming.

Kurt puts his heads in his hands and moans, "Oh my god, I hate you all."

"Ease up, Hummel. It's already Wednesday; you can wait until Saturday."

Blaine leans over to Kurt and whispers in his ear, "Don't hate me; I'm going to be a teacher. I can find a creative way around _anything_."

––––

Wednesday is the day the entire house starts to feel the wedding bearing down on them and there's so much to be done. Kurt sends Mia and Nicole off to several grocery stores with their shopping list for the food and the liquor, finally entrusting Rachel with the keys to his car after it was clear that the alterations to Mercedes' dress were going to take longer than he'd thought and that he isn't going _anywhere_ until they're done. It takes until two that afternoon before everybody is satisfied with the final result, and he sits down with both Tina and Mercedes over salads to finish their negotiations about hair and makeup.

He recruits them to help with finishing up the cake decorations after lunch; they've agreed to use violets from the Berry's, but Tina had also really liked the look of jeweled cake picks and a fantastic (if slightly gaudy – but definitely fun) rhinestoned monogram for the top of the cake. He gets them started with crystals, wire and some needle-nosed pliers then sits down at the other end of the long dining room table with stencils, glue and stones to make it happen.

He's engrossed in his work until he goes to reach for his glue bottle only to find it missing, and when he looks up Blaine is sitting on the edge of the table, cradling the bottle in his hands and looking at him with a soft smile on his face.

"Still bedazzling things?" he asks in a low voice, and Kurt recognizes that quirk in his brow – Blaine had picked it up from him sometime in their last year of high school. Rachel had said it was a sign that they were simpatico; Mercedes had found it vaguely creepy, and Kurt had always thought it was adorable. He still does.

"The world isn't becoming more beautiful all on its own – we have to help it," he quips, holding out his hand for the glue bottle.

"I think you're doing enough already," Blaine says, and Kurt furrows his brow. "Just sit right there, in that light, and it's covered."

Kurt just stares at him and feels a smile growing across his face, because _Jesus Christ_ is he laying it on thick and it's reminiscent of sitting across from him in an Olive Garden knockoff a thousand years ago. The moment is broken when Tina starts giggling and Mercedes sighs out loud. "Oh my god, it's like The Lima Bean all over again. Did you actually forget we were _in the room_?"

Blaine closes his eyes and makes a face. "A little bit, yeah. Thanks for reminding me so graciously, though." He steps around Kurt and puts his hands on his shoulders and bends down to kiss at Kurt's hair. "Anything else you want to say, while we're already embarrassed?"

Mercedes gives him her very best bitch look and holds eye contact for a minute before she smiles. "I think I need to talk to Kurt, first, but I said everything I needed to say to you about Kurt years ago, Blaine."

"Understood."

She looks at him for a minute longer, then turns her bitchface to Kurt. "This time I'm saying it to you too, though – don't fuck up again."

"Message received, princess, but let me ask: speaking of the Lima Bean, are you looking forward to seeing Sam this weekend?"

The expression on her face is priceless, but just then Wes sweeps into the dining room with his camera, eager to get a few snaps of wedding preparations, and Kurt just files it away as something to be revisited later.

That night at dinner Blaine slides into the seat next to him, and he pours a glass of wine for Kurt. Conversation is animated, excited, and when it's his turn to check in, Kurt tells the group about their shopping trip, and shows off the completed cake-toppers. Blaine rests his hand on Kurt's shoulder as he leans over to take a closer look at the curl of the letters, and Kurt catches Rachel's eye across the table. She's smirking into her glass of wine, and he only cocks his head and shrugs, and then she smiles, radiant and happy. When he stands to clear the table, Mercedes grabs his hand as he reaches for her plate, and when she slides their fingers together to tickle and tease at the tips, he grins at this old, familiar handshake, and winks at her.

After dinner Kurt slips into the kitchen to mix together and bake the cakes, eager to get them in the refrigerator before bed so he can do most of the work tomorrow. He brings the timer out to the living room and perches on the sofa closest to the kitchen, Blaine sitting on the floor and leaning back against his legs, and between his runs to the kitchen they get their asses beat in Trivial Pursuit; their pairing is strong in the cultural categories but utterly hopeless in Science & Nature, and Kurt's kitchen chemistry and Blaine's jokes about that _other_ kind of chemistry don't do much to help their cause. That night, though, he helps Kurt wrap the cakes to place them in the refrigerator and then drags Kurt to bed early (and it's all Kurt can do not to stick his tongue out at Wes's raised eyebrows), and makes his own point about friction and conservation of energy as they slide against each other slow and insistent and so so careful. Blaine falls asleep in the middle of a kiss, and Kurt lies awake and thinks about what he remembers from his one physics class in college about inertia and momentum, about potential energy and bodies in motion, until he drifts off, his front plastered to Blaine's back.


	6. Thursday

Kurt slips out of bed early with one last kiss to Blaine's shoulder, and after a quick shower he grabs his phone and sneaks out to the front porch. He woke up with someone on his mind, and he needs to make a call.

He paces while the phone rings, anxious when it goes more than three and then instantly he's a little more tightly–wound when he hears, "Hummel Tire & Lube, this is Carole speaking, how may I help you?"

"Carole, it's Kurt."

"Kurt! Oh, there you are, it's showing up now – this new phone system is laggy on the caller ID, I'm sorry. How are you, honey?"

"I'm good. Everything's going fine here."

"Tina's not working you too hard, is she?"

"Oh, you know. It's Tina. She's freaking out, obviously, but it's not like I'm not used to her when she's in an absolute panic."

"Are you having fun, at least?"

He smiles. "You know, I really am. How are things there?"

" _Busy_. All the college kids are home, and you wouldn't believe how many of their cars need servicing. Your father's loving it, though – he loves giving them a hard time, and the money's nice."

"Is he busy, then?"

"I think he's probably not too busy to talk to you. Did you need to..."

"Yeah, Carole, if you don't mind." He winces.

"It's not a problem. We'll see you Sunday?"

"Um... yeah, I think so. I'll let you know as it gets closer. Is that okay?"

"Perfectly fine. Hang on a second, and if I disconnect you, just call back, okay?"

The line goes dead before he can respond, and it's almost 3 minutes of Muzak before his dad picks up the line with a fumble and a thud.

"Kurt?"

He can picture his dad standing there behind the wide desk in his office, wiping his hands on a rag and squinting at the phone, like if he looks hard enough it'll make it easier for him to hear. He leans against the wall of the house and slides down until he's seated.

"Yeah, Dad. Hi."

"How you doing? Getting ready to get Tina all hitched?"

"I think so. She's... do you remember how excited she was the morning of that Lady Gaga concert in Columbus our senior year? Just... give her five years to grow up a little bit, then multiply it by 1000. She's _that_."

His dad chuckles. "That must be a picture. Give her a hug for us, will you, and tell her we're real sorry to miss her big day. It's a busy time, and we figured it was better for Finn to be there. He'll be bringing up our gift, though, and hey, looks like Megan is going to have to work, so it'll be just him and Sam."

"I'll tell Tina." He's quiet for a few seconds, and then he says, "Dad, do you... I mean, I know you're busy, but can you talk for a minute?"

He can hear his dad's office chair creaking in the background while he sits down, and it wrings the knot in his belly a little tighter to know what he must sound like.

"Any time, Kurt, _any_ time. What's going on?"

"It's Blaine."

"I figured. He have that Ollie guy there again?"

He laughs, just a little, and he can feel himself tearing up at the same time. "No. No, not at all. They broke up." He pauses, and then he dives in. "He's moving to New York in the fall. For grad school. And... also for me. He's coming to New York."

There's silence from the other end of the line, and he can hear the faint noises of the country radio station echoing through the shop, the rustle of fabric and the creak of ancient springs as his dad leans back in his chair.

"Hell, Kurt."

" _I know._ I know, okay." He's quiet. "It's... we... he's still in love with me."

"He say so?"

"He does. And he is, Dad. I'm sure of it."

There's another pause on the phone, and then his dad says, "How back together are you?"

"Dad."

"Give me a break. I'm trying to figure out what to say here. I just mean, how much of a done deal is this?"

Kurt takes a chance and screws up his face and says, "I left him in my bed to make this phone call."

His dad groans. "Kurt, you gotta not say these things to me."

"I'm sorry, but you asked! And it's true."

"That doesn't... god, I hate saying this. But that doesn't necessarily mean anything, you know?"

"Believe me, I know. But this time it does. I really think it does."

"So you're saying you've both jumped into it feet-first, without really thinking about it."

He thinks about that for a minute and tries to figure out how to say what's been lurking in the back of his mind. "Actually, I don't think so. It feels more like we've picked up exactly where we would have been if we had never broken up."

"But you _did_ , Kurt, is my point. You broke up a long time ago, and it was hard and messy and did he ever explain exactly why that _was_ to you?"

"His dad, basically. His dad and money."

His dad is silent for a minute while he does the mental math, slotting the players together in the right configurations. "Figures. And he didn't tell you any of this then?"

He winces. "Yeah, I think a lot of that might be on me. I was such an ass that spring and summer, and I don't think I was in any position to listen. And he was freaked out, and didn't know how to tell me without shouting it in my face, which I don't think he could have. It was just too much, and we blew it."

"God, you were both so freaking _young_."

"We were. We aren't any more."

"You're younger than you think you are."

"But not as young as _you_ think I am."

His dad chuckles. "That's probably true." He pauses then, and he asks the question. "So why are you calling me?"

"You know, I'm not exactly sure." He pleats the hem of his shorts, then lets it go, then does it all over again. "I think because... it feels important? And you should know about those things. I _need_ you to know about those things."

He can tell his Dad is choking up when he finally speaks. "Kurt, I'm real honored. But let me ask you something else. Why haven't I gotten this phone call before? I'm sure you've been dating, and I've never heard a word about a boy since Blaine."

He takes a second to think, to be surprised that he'd never told his father about Michael. "I guess that's because he's the one that really matters," and just how easily he says it, so stark and simple, makes him smile and want to beat his head against the wall, and his eyes fill with tears again.

"So there you go. You happy?"

"I'm... I think I am, underneath being absolutely fucking _terrified_. Sorry, language, I'm sorry."

His dad chuckles, easy and low, and says, "Yeah, that sounds about right. One more thing: you said he was in love with you. You feel the same way?"

He's quiet, because saying it out loud is a new thing, and he doesn't know how to say this without sounding pathetic and he hates himself a little bit for it. "For a very long time and... without any real interruption."

"So there you go," his dad says again, softer this time, and it's the most they've said to each other about his love life since high school. "Like I've always said: _stubborn_. I should have known it would end up back here."

"You could have told me!" he says with a smile, wiping away tears.

"Like you woulda listened."

"Yeah," Kurt says. "Dad, I – thank you."

"Like I said, kid, any time. He coming back this way with you after the wedding?"

"I think so. He's spending the summer at home, so he'll be around when I am."

"Get him over to the house. I want to see him."

He rolls his eyes, 17 all over again. "Dad, tell me you're not going all protective again."

"I think I've earned it – he wasn't the only one you were an ass to that last semester of high school – but no. He was always a good kid, real respectful, and Carole and I have both missed seeing how he turned out. It'll be good to see him. And he can remind me of why I don't drive over and kick his old man's ass – shoulda done that a long time ago."

Kurt grins. "We should put together a posse. I'll design the costuming."

"And, you know... Carole will want to see you together. It'll help her feel a lot better about this whole thing."

"Carole, huh?"

"Hey, I know my wife."

"Yeah, and I know my _dad_. But it's fine – I'm sure he'll want to see you, too. I'll call Carole with the schedule."

He can hear the grin in his dad's voice. "You do that." After a pause he says, "When we get off the phone you're going back to bed, aren't you?"

He grins back. "It's a distinct possibility, yes."

"So, look, Kurt, I've been wanting to talk to you for a long time about, uh, about your column. Tell me more about that, why don't you."

He laughs down the phone, "I love you, Dad."

"Love you too, Kurt. Tell Blaine we said hello."

"I will. I'll talk to you soon."

And just as he's moving his hand to the other phone, getting ready to hang up, his dad says, "Hey, Kurt? I'm real happy for you both, son."

"Thank you."

After he hangs up he sits there for a few minutes longer on the porch, and then he slips into the house, creeps up the stairs and lies, fully clothed, on his bed, watching Blaine sleep. Eventually Blaine stirs, his eyes twitching and his head turning toward Kurt before he fully wakes. His eyes are still sleepy, content, when he cracks them open and says, sleep clouding his voice, "'Morning."

And it's on Kurt's lips to tell him, to say everything he's been carrying around and that is roaring up in him like a wild, untapped well, but then Blaine rolls against him and he smells so _good_ , and he's warm and pliable and his mouth is wet and morning sour, and the words are lost in just one more slip of the tongue.

They'll keep, he thinks, and he wraps an arm around Blaine and holds him there.

–––

Kurt lingers in bed while Blaine goes on his run, staring up at the ceiling. Blaine had left the door ajar when he'd gone back to his room with Wes to change, and Kurt lets it stay that way, already anticipating Tina's arrival.

He thinks about his conversation with his dad and lets his mind again wander back to that spring, to overhearing his dad talking to Carole in the kitchen late at night. At the time he'd felt vindicated, a little victorious, to hear the anger in his voice. He'd been _so_ hurt, dumped and jilted and abandoned after they'd shared so much, and hearing his dad rage on his behalf threw him right back to that day, years before, when it had been him and his dad taking on Finn. He had gloried in it, wallowed around in his righteous anger and the fact that no matter what, his father was on his side. He stayed angry for a long time, and he hadn't allowed himself to tip over into melancholy and mourning until sometime in his sophomore year, long weeks after he and Blaine had tipped into bed after too many drinks and savagely took advantage of each other. It had changed so much of the way he thought about their relationship, and even though he still hates that it happened he thinks now that maybe it _had_ to, that that closeness, that flip side of their intimacy, had burned off so much of the rage and just let him carry on.

He's thinking about that morning after, how he'd finally given in and cried in the shower after he made it home, when Tina pushes open his door with a soft knock.

"Morning. Blaine already gone?" She stands there in the doorway in a green tank top and plaid boxers, her hair loose around her shoulders.

"He's running." He gives her a wolfish grin. "Come stare at the ceiling with me."

She flops down on the bed, mirroring his loose and easy position. A few minutes later she says, "What are we looking at? Is it like the clouds?"

"We're looking for answers, Tina. Don't be silly." They lie there for a minute, and then Kurt says, "I called my dad this morning."

"About Blaine?" He nods. "Whoa, that's very serious. How did that go?"

"Better than expected, really. I went in expecting to have to defend him, but Dad seems to be willing to just go with it." After a second he asks, "When did you know the reasons he didn't come to New York?"

She sighs. "God. That was... _years_ ago. Right after that party where you guys hooked up again." She pauses, and then rolls toward him, resting on her side. "David and I had an argument about it – it was our first big fight. The next morning Blaine was really quiet, but it was pretty obvious what had happened – you marked him up pretty good." He winces, thinking about Blaine spread across navy blue sheets, bruises marking his throat and hips. "I was pissed, because I couldn't believe after everything the two of you had just rolled back into this fucked up _thing_ , and I took it out on David – god, I was _such_ a bitch that morning. After everybody left he dragged me into the living room and we had it _out_ , and he told me everything then. About what a mess Blaine was after you broke it off at prom, how he called that night, feeling like he'd transferred to McKinley so he could be with you, given up everything at Dalton, and just had it all thrown back in his face at the last minute. Did you know he spent the rest of that weekend at David's?"

Kurt just shakes his head and keeps his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"David had just gotten home for the summer, and Blaine called right after he left prom. He didn't want to go home. He slept on his bedroom floor for two nights, and by the end David called in Wes to just sit with them. He makes it sound like it was a hell of a weekend. It's part of why they're still so close, I think."

He finally turns toward her. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "What was the point? By then the damage had been done. I told David that I would if you ever brought it up – that was the end of the fight, when we had just decided that we needed to stay out of it. Well – when David convinced me that we needed to stay out of it. He was right, though – it wasn't up to us. And god, you were just... you were a mess, anyway. And then there was Ollie, so." She shrugged again.

"When we were shopping? You couldn't have told me _then_?"

"Kurt, your relationship with Blaine is not my job. I think I have enough going on right now, don't you?" He kicks at her, just a little. "Besides, to be honest? It really pisses me off. I thought, okay, they want to do this? Then _they_ have to fucking well do it."

He turns toward her. "We're doing it now."

She smiles, so sweet and a little bit sad. "I know."

"Well, I say that – we're not doing _it_ , now are we?"

She rolls her eyes. "Look, they are ridiculous. I don't care _what_ you do, just keep it down."

"Blaine and his absurd sense of honor. It won't happen until Saturday night."

"Glad I'm going to be out of the house, then. I have plans of my own for that night." Her grin is lurid, lascivious, and he rolls his eyes.

"What on _earth_ made you think that was a good idea?"

She laughs a little and looks down at the mattress between them. "He proposed in bed, did I tell you?" He shakes his head. "And you know that it started with David long before it ended with Mike. I've always felt a little weird about that – not that it happened like it did, because my _god_ it was romantic and so fucking hot. But this is the beginning of something, and this is my _husband_. Someday I'm going to have this man's children, we are going to get old together, and I just... I don't know. I think that part of me wants to wipe the slate clean, to start over, to put some kind of really clear before and after there."

He frowns at her. "Don't tell me you're going all wife and mother here, Tina. It's disturbing."

"Kurt, I _am_ going to be somebody's wife and mother. It doesn't mean I'm a different person than I was when I was sneaking off to fuck David on a Thursday afternoon –" she gives him a savage grin, "but this turned into something much more important than sex a long time ago."

"But why does it have to be one or the other?"

"What do you mean?"

He thinks for a second. "I mean, you _like_ having sex with David – I think we're all pretty clear on that much, at least." They grin at each other. "I don't get why suddenly not doing it is a good thing."

She sighs and rolls back to look at the ceiling. "I don't know, maybe it's a girl thing. A feminist thing, even." She pauses and then says, "For as much as it's some kind of norm, it gets strangely complicated, you know, being a woman who _likes_ sleeping with men. It gets weird – there are expectations about what you're supposed to do and how you're supposed to feel, and sometimes it feels like the one thing I can never quite figure out is how much of all of that is about me and how much of that is about what, like, the _culture_ is expecting me to do."

He's missed this, he realizes – Tina and her sharp and critical mind, her insistence that she is important and worth understanding. He doesn't have conversations like this very often, and when he does they're almost always with her. He feels lazy, out of practice, but he dives in anyway.

"So, wait, before, you were sleeping with David while you were still dating Mike, which according to the culture is a bad thing – "

"Total slut," she interjects, lazily.

"And now you're not, so you're going to be a good girl and have some kind of white wedding?"

She laughs, just a little bitter but mostly tired. "Or before I was giving David exactly what he needed, which is what a woman is supposed to do, and now I'm taking a little space and control over my own body and my own pleasure, which makes me a frigid bitch."

He looks at her, and then breathes out, "Oh my god, I have never been so glad to be a gay man."

She elbows him in the ribs. "Thanks for your support."

He thinks about it for a minute. "Hmmm. Still. You're sort of doing it all backwards, you realize."

She just grins at him and says, "You're one to talk."

He flops onto his back and groans at the ceiling. "God, we are all so fucked up."

"I blame glee club. Think about where we were and the examples we had when we were learning how to be in relationships."

He pulls a face, and there's another knock on the door. Rachel's there, wearing a tank top and boxers too, although hers are color coordinated and involve rhinestones.

"Hey, Rachel," Tina says. "We were just talking about you." Kurt pinches her leg where his hand is hidden between them, and she softly kicks at him.

"Forget me – for once, I think I'm the really boring one. Let's talk about Kurt and Blaine," she says with way too much energy in her voice this early, as she jumps onto the bed and Kurt groans and rolls over to press his face into his pillow.

"Don't be like that! Tell me _everything_."

–––

By the time Kurt makes it down to breakfast, Blaine is leaning back against the kitchen counter drinking another glass of water, and Kurt goes to him, leans against him and kisses him quickly, and it's not until he feels the glass cool against the back of his neck that he realizes that Blaine didn't even take a moment to empty his hands before he wrapped his arms around Kurt. He loves it. He whispers, "Good morning again" against his mouth when they part, and Blaine's smile is radiant.

When he turns back to the table Mercedes is the only one watching, and there's a sad smile on her face.

After breakfast Blaine stands behind Tina and puts his hands on her shoulders. Kurt has always resented how close they seemed to be becoming – for years he'd pushed down that jealousy, and now that everything is changing around him it feels different, and he smiles into his coffee cup.

"Okay, lady – your playlist is done. You ready to check it out?"

She grins, bouncing a little in her seat while he grins behind her. "Now?"

Wes pipes up from the other end of the table. "I have you at 11, Tina – don't forget."

"Right, and we need to do makeup and hair for you and Mercedes before that," Kurt adds.

"But I thought you were working on the cake this morning," Blaine says, frowning a little.

"Oh, shit, the jam –" and Tina is on her feet, slipping out the door and they can hear her pounding her way up the stairs.

Kurt can feel the stress starting to gather in his shoulders and he sighs. "Okay, here's what needs to happen. Blaine, you can hang out with me and Mercedes and Tina while I'm getting them ready, and you can go over the playlist while we're doing that. Nicole? Nicole!" She looks up from where she's sort of blearily staring into her cornflakes. "Are you _actually_ awake?" At her nod, he continues. "You're not going to be in the kitchen today, are you?"

"Not really? We need to do some prep work, but you finally made your point about the cake, and we won't take up too much space, I promise."

"Thank you. Actually, though, I need your help. If I put something on to reduce, can you keep an eye on it?"

She perks up a little, looking slightly more aware. "How far do you want the reduction?"

"Just about halfway. I'll walk you through it, it just needs some time to cool before it goes on the cake."

She stands, taking her bowl with her to the sink. "Yeah, I can do that. Let me get showered, see if it'll wake me up a little."

"Okay. And Wes," he turns to find Wes watching him. "You just... go do whatever you need to do. Take Rachel with you, you guys walk around and find the best spots on the property for portraits." They both nod. "And that just leaves David and Mia. David, can you call the florist and confirm that everything is still on track for Saturday?" David salutes. "And Mia, assuming she ever gets out of bed and drags down here, can help Nicole with their prepwork." He looks at the ceiling, counts things off on his fingers, and then nods. "There. No problem."

Tina runs back in with a plastic bag from Meijer's, jars of jam weighing it heavy and clinking inside. "Here!" She thrusts the bag at Kurt. "Six jars of David's grandmother's strawberry jam, from last year's garden."

He takes the bag, saying, "Perfect!" and turns into the large, walk–in pantry to rummage for supplies.

She looks around the room, at the bemused faces, and settles on Blaine's, on his gentle smile.

"What happened?"

"Just... Kurt."

Kurt breezes past toward the stove, jam gone but with two bottles of champagne dangling from one hand and a box of powdered sugar in the other. "I was amazing. You missed it."

Tina sighs and sits back down, pulling her coffee cup toward her. "Damn it. Sometimes being the bride _sucks_."

–––

By the time Kurt finishes mixing together the champagne syrup and gets it to a boil, Nicole and Mia have both made it back down to the kitchen and he walks them through what he wants for the reduction. Mia gets it quick – as it turns out, she was a barback for a cocktail bar for a while during college and the staff had insisted on a proper rich simple syrup, so the concept is clear and he just has to reiterate that you want this way more reduced than that, and then she's got it.

He sets out butter to soften and takes one last peek at the wrapped cakes in the refrigerator, then heads up to Tina and David's room.

Mercedes has already put on her dress, and the alterations really are perfect, he thinks – bringing up the hem just a little bit more makes her legs look fantastic. She's finishing up touching up her toenail polish, and her hair is already twisted up and back on the sides and falling in gentle waves.

Blaine and Tina are sitting on the bed, poring over iTunes and checking out what Blaine has put together for the reception music. Tina's silent, concentrating, and when Blaine looks up at his entrance and winks, Kurt just smiles and crosses to Mercedes.

"Hey there. Want me to do your eyes?"

She smiles up at him, waving her hands over her toes to get the polish to dry faster. "I've gotten better, but it's still a pain in the ass. You don't mind?

"Not at all." He looks at her. "Natural colors, big lashes?"

"And like a deep pink lipstick – something natural looking?"

"Yeah, I think so," he says, nodding.

"Okay, get to work!"

She sets up her makeup on the little end table between the wing chairs by the fireplace while he opens the blinds for better light and then drags over the other chair so that he's sitting right in front of her. And then, like so many other days, he gets started.

She's already done the makeup on her face so he goes straight for the eyes. He's just beginning with a simple highlight to her browbone when he hears Tina say, "Oh, god, this song! That was such an amazing album," and the opening notes to "Rolling in the Deep" start up.

Kurt smiles as he works. That song had been in heavy radio rotation when he and Blaine had been falling in love the first time, and for long weeks it seemed like every time they had been making out in one of their cars it had been the soundtrack. There were so _many_ songs that were important to them, but for Kurt this one always reminds him of Blaine's mouth hot and fervent against his throat, of wandering hands and steamy afternoons and the sound of his own broken gasp loud in his ears. Years later he heard it on the radio in the back of a cab, and he listened to the heartbroken lyrics and stared out at a cold and wet New York October and suddenly it had felt strangely prophetic and perfectly fitting. He pulls back to switch to a pencil and casts a glance over at the bed; Tina is singing along and Mercedes is taking advantage of the break to join in, but Blaine is just staring at him, a cryptic smile on his face. He tilts his head and raises his brow, and Blaine just shakes his head and looks down.

He looks back to Mercedes as he picks up the pencil, and she's looking down, a little drawn looking.

Kurt leans closer to do her eyeliner. "Look up," he says, drawing a faint line with a steady hand. Quietly, he says, "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Her eyes fill with tears, and he says quickly, "Oh god, no crying! Your makeup, Mercedes!"

She dabs at her eyes with her middle fingers, and then quickly presses both to the inner corners of her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Right, right. Sorry." She opens both eyes and they're glassy, but the threat seems to have passed. "Mitchell sent me an email. He's not going to make it to the wedding."

He squeezes her knee and then leans in to do the opposite eye. "I'm sorry. Do you miss him?"

She blows out a breath, still gazing up at the ceiling and trying to keep her face still. "It's not that. I think – I think there's somebody else."

He pulls back and looks at her. "That's bullshit. Girl, I will just remind you again – if you are not his top priority, he should not be yours."

"It's not that easy, Kurt. And besides, two days ago you _finally_ put together a relationship that you let stay broken for four years – you're really going to give me advice?"

He's stung – that was sharp, even for Mercedes. "We're not talking about me, though, are we? We're talking about _you_."

"I keep telling you – it's not that easy."

He puts down the pencil, and thinks while he opens a package of false eyelashes. Big dramatic eyes are standard for photos and performances, and he learned to apply these on this very set of eyes, so long ago. He readies his tweezers, and then looks up at her. "I understand. Believe me, I get it. But I don't think he's making you happy, and I hope you find a way to get off of his hook soon."

She sighs and watches his hands. "You know, I don't even think I really care. I'm just bored, and I'm nervous about what comes next. I still haven't found a job I really _want_ , and I'm moving back in with my _parents_ , for god's sake. And whatever else Mitchell is, he's one hell of a distraction."

Kurt tilts his head to the side in one sharp motion, and says, "Okay, _that_? That I understand, better than you realize." He thinks of the distractions he's given himself over the years and then he gives her a sad smile and says, "Close your eyes, and when you open them, at least you'll have the eyelashes of your dreams."

Just as Kurt's finishing the second set of lashes, Tina says, "Blaine, this is pretty much perfect. I can't think of a single thing I want added or taken away. _Thank you!_ "

"You're welcome – I'm so glad you're happy with it. What a relief!"

"I do have a favor to ask you, though," she asks, her voice hesitant and wheedling.

"Watch this," Mercedes whispers as she opens her eyes. "She's about to totally play him."

"It's just... this is so awesome, and I realized that I really want to have something great to send home with the guests. Do you think it would be possible for you to collect, like, 15 or so of the songs and make some CDs for people to take home with them?"

Blaine's face is growing more and more uncomfortable – it's a big ask, over 150 CDs to burn and label in under 48 hours, and it's not like there aren't a million other little things to do. Tina can't know how Blaine's been worrying about the performance that they're meant to pull together tomorrow afternoon, and it's that thought that makes Kurt say, "I can help," because he has an idea that will probably be impossible, but would make the CDs _amazing_ if they can.

Blaine looks at him like a lifeline, asking, "Are you sure? You have so much to do."

"It's fine – I'm not terrible with graphic design, and this is something we can do in fits and starts over the next couple of days. Really – say yes, Blaine."

Blaine grins and looks back at Tina and says, "You heard the man – I'm saying yes."

Tina throws her arms around him and Mercedes murmurs, "Damn, she got you, too? I _have_ to figure out how she does that."

"I'll tell you the secret later. Now. Mascara, and then Tina's up."

–––

He steps out into the hallway with Blaine while Tina is getting her dress on, and after he whispers his questions and plans Blaine kisses him hard and says, "God, I love you and your ideas."

"You think we can make it work?"

Blaine bounces on the balls of his feet and says, "I think I know who can. Let me get started on that. I'll find you later?"

"Please do," and Blaine gives him a quick kiss and turns to go.

Kurt grabs his hand, and says, "Wait, just a second," and then he kisses Blaine one more time, long and slow and sweet, dragging Blaine down into it with him so that Blaine ends up backing into the wall for support, pulling Kurt along with the press of his hands to the small of Kurt's back. Kurt keeps him there, falling into the kiss and letting it linger, and when he pulls away with a hint of teeth to Blaine's bottom lip and plasters himself against him they're both a little breathless.

" _Kurt,_ " he whispers, his voice breaking and desperate, and his hands don't let go.

"Just... _thank you_ ," he whispers back, his voice fierce.

Blaine looks at him, lost in a haze of want and confusion and just says, "Whatever it is, you're welcome to it."

–––

An hour later Blaine strolls into the kitchen, hands tucked in his pockets and looking exceptionally pleased with himself.

"Well?"

"Taken care of – my friend Nathan's running up with the equipment tomorrow night, and he'll do the recording at the rehearsal session. David thinks you're a genius, by the way."

"Of course he does," Kurt responds automatically. "And we'll see, tomorrow."

"When are we going to manage putting the CDs together?"

Kurt lifts the first bowl of buttercream out of the stand mixer and starts packing into piping bags. "That will be the easy part – software will help with that, and I want to ask Wes if he has a good shot of Tina and David to use as the cover, and we can hit a Kinko's or something and abuse their largesse with the paper cutters. No, the _hard_ part will be keeping Tina's grabby hands off of them once they're done."

Blaine leans against the kitchen counter and makes a move for the frosting bowl until Kurt slaps his hand away and then pulls out a spoon. "No double dipping," he warns.

"Okay, so _when_?"

"Tomorrow morning I'll put together the layout on my laptop, and you can run out and get the discs. You'll transfer the playlist to my machine on Friday night, and then we'll just crank them out. It'll take a while, but it's not impossible."

Blaine digs into the icing bowl, bringing out a glob of rich white buttercream almost too big for the spoon. "Aren't you supposed to be icing the cakes tomorrow? And won't you be busy on Saturday morning?"

He shrugs. "So you might have to man both machines for a while. I'm not saying it'll be _fun_ , but it'll be manageable, and then it'll be perfect."

Blaine frowns a little.

"What is that face?"

He looks up, smiles a little chagrined. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm just starting to get why David thought this was a bad time for us to get back together."

Kurt's taken aback, and his face must show it, because Blaine hurries to add, "I just want more time with you."

"So stay here with me while I make the cakes." Kurt is shaken, but he knows his voice sounds cool. Good.

"I will, but that's not exactly what I was wishing for." Kurt can't believe there was ever a time when he found Blaine inscrutable; the uncomfortably hungry look on his face isn't difficult to interpret.

"You're the one who made that agreement with David. Besides the obvious, what are you wanting that you're not getting?"

Blaine just smiles at him, a little predatory, and then sticks the almost empty spoon back in his mouth and hollows his cheeks around it, raising one brow at Kurt.

He smirks, and says, "Oh, I see."

Blaine pulls the spoon out with an audible pop and licks at it. "There's a walk-in pantry right behind you. I bet I can still make it so, so quick."

Kurt's hands slow in spooning the frosting into bags. He remembers racing against the clock, against curfew, against his dad's regular half-hour checks that his bedroom door stayed open, and he remembers one particularly ill-advised race against the bell ending the lunch period. And he remembers the anxiety that came with every single one of those experiences, especially that last one, and as much as he wants Blaine's mouth (hot, wet, beautiful wrapped around his dick, his lips rosy and shining where they pulled tight, god, so tight, and it's ridiculous that after all the blowjobs he's had that that image is still so clear in his mind), "God. Later? Later, I _promise_." He puts the spoon back in the bowl and moves toward him then, kissing him quickly and resting their foreheads together, and he lets his fingers push against Blaine's mouth until he takes them in, pulls two fingertips into his mouth and presses them with his tongue. Blaine always had loved giving him head, and _god_.

He doesn't quite whimper, but he knows he makes a noise close to it when he feels Blaine inhale tightly.

He pulls away then, letting his fingers trail wet over Blaine's mouth. "David really was right," he says, remorse clear in his voice as he goes to wash his hands and go back to the buttercream.

Blaine wraps his arms around him from behind and presses a kiss to his neck, whispering, "I'm holding you to your promise," before he lets him go.

They pass the next three hours in work and quiet conversation. While Kurt is carefully cutting each layer in half, Blaine asks about Kurt's job, about how on earth the editors at _Paper_ had found the blog he'd started keeping for everybody at home as soon as he started at NYU, and when he's drizzling the cooled syrup over the surfaces of the cakes he tells Blaine what a surprise it had been to be valued for his _written_ voice, after so much time thinking that it was his singing that would take him where he wanted to go. He pipes a dam of frosting around the edges of the cut surfaces, neat and steady circles, while he tells him what it had been like to let go of that old dream and take the freelance gig, to let go of music as a performer and learn to love it all over again as a critic and a commentator. And when he's spreading the jam inside those circles he tries to find words for the sweetness of it, for the way each comment and quote and citation and reference leaves him feeling full, appreciated and understood in a way he hadn't even been able to hope for when he was just a kid in Lima.

Blaine listens and watches and asks pointed, interesting questions. He brings Kurt things as he needs them, transferring in new jars of jam when he drops the spoon with a clank into an empty jar, and when they're done, when Kurt has three layers of unfrosted white cake with champagne syrup and strawberry filling sitting on the counter before him, he realizes that he's _never_ talked this long and this openly about his work, about what it _meant_ to him. For just a while he's forgotten, forgotten everything that had hurt about this relationship and fallen back into a place where Blaine is his best friend, his confidante, the person who understands him better than anybody else ever could.

He wipes his hands on a kitchen towel and says, "I'm sorry. I've rambled on so much...."

And Blaine just wraps him in his arms and says, "I loved it. I've missed you, too, you know."

Just for a moment Kurt forgets about the cakes, forgets about how they need their crumb coat before they go into the refrigerator, forgets again about his hurt, and clings back.

–––

At around six, after the cakes are back in the refrigerator and the group has long returned from Tina's adventures in portraiture, a party bus pulls into the long driveway, and Mercedes drags Tina out to the porch with a "Surprise! And you thought we wouldn't have time for a stag party!" Tina squeals and runs back into the house to rouse the masses and quickly throw on a short skirt and her favorite party shoes (and may god bless John Fluevog). David stands there looking flummoxed for a minute until Blaine laughs and hustles him up the stairs to change into something more appropriate himself, and Kurt is just glad that he and the rest of the house have had advanced warning and had pitched in for the bus, because trying to coordinate transport would have just been too much in all this chaos.

Twenty minutes later Mercedes is dragging Tina to the bus, telling her she can fix makeup on the way, and they stop milling in the yard and all pile on. It's ridiculous to turn on the dance floor lights when it's still daylight outside, but the drinks start flowing immediately and by the time they're halfway to Cleveland, nobody seems to care. David has a grip on Tina's bare knee, and Blaine is leaning against Kurt, and Mia and Nicole have pulled Wes, Mercedes and Rachel into some kind of drinking game, and fuck it – they're young and they're supposed to be ridiculous.

Mercedes has clearly given the driver thorough previous instruction, because the bus pulls to the stop in the valet circle of a strip club lit up in harsh neon. Blaine says, "Okay, gentlemen, this is where we get off."

"Not likely," Kurt snipes under his breath, and Blaine just kisses his temple and squeezes his knee.

"No, that's more your end of the deal tonight, I think. No dancing with strippers, unless you send me a picture." He pauses for a moment, and then says, "No, wait. Don't do that. That would suck."

Kurt raises a brow and just says, "We'll see," and then Blaine is grinning at him and he and Wes are disentangling David from Tina and sweeping him out of the bus. They flank him and march him into the club, where some of David's friends are meant to be waiting. Kurt grins as they go.

And then the bus is rolling again, just a few blocks down to Power House, and once they're inside they're met by a wave of Tina's friends, plus Quinn and Santana, who he hasn't spent time with in far too long and who he greets with hugs and hellos. As she lets go, Santana says to him, "Okay, this is unfair. How did you end up with the girls tonight, and where are the boys?"

He just smiles. "Maid of honor's prerogative – Mercedes insisted, and I _really_ didn't argue. I'm sure you'd be welcome to join them, but I think the fun is going to be in watching what happens to Rachel's face when there's a gyrating cock shoved in front of it."

She chokes on her drink and gives him a funny look, then sighs and says, "Dammit, I can't miss that."

–––

 _From: Kurt  
Tina's marking things off her Single Bucket List at an alarming pace. Please tell me that things are a little more calm over there._

 _From: Blaine  
Now I'm *really* sorry I'm here. This is nothing you haven't seen before. David's sitting here like he's in the middle of a board meeting, Wes is beginning to unwind a little (which is terrifying) and most of the other guys are acting about like you would expect._

 _From: Kurt  
Dalton men to the end?_

 _From: Blaine  
Something like that, although I'm shocked by what a horndog Thad has turned out to be. What did Tina do, anyway?_

 _From: Kurt  
She kissed a girl and she liked it. At least her Babycakes stock rose a little bit higher, even if she will never have that hair._

 _From: Blaine  
Damn. Mercedes?_

 _From: Kurt  
Rachel, actually. Santana and Quinn are here – you should have seen the looks on their faces. Totally opposite, both completely hilarious._

 _From: Blaine  
Well, at least Rachel is a good kisser._

 _From: Kurt  
This is how much I hate you right now_  
he sends, and he attaches a picture of his own hand tucking a $5 into a loaded g-string.

–––

The drive home is a whole new kind of ridiculous.

Blaine is pleasantly drunk, greeting Kurt with "I missed you" breathed hot against his ear and he's handsy, indulgently affectionate. The bus feels bigger somehow with everybody else crowded around the bar at the other end, still drinking and swapping stories, so Kurt reels him in close and tells him about their time at the bar, about one of Tina's friends making eyes at Santana, about another of her sorority sisters' obvious distaste for the surroundings. Blaine rests against his shoulder and lets his hand slide over Kurt's chest, then presses it to Kurt's cheek and turns him into a kiss.

Twenty minutes later Blaine has Kurt pushed against the corner of the back of the bus, one hand shoved into his hair and the other worming its way under his shirt, blindly groping for skin. He lets his head fall back against the glass of the window a little harder than he'd meant, and he stutters out a gasp and stares at the flashing lights and swirling colors of the ceiling of the bus as Blaine mouths at his neck, sucking a kiss to the tendon beneath his ear while he rolls one of Kurt's nipples between his fingers. He feels drunker than he is.

Blaine shifts suddenly, making Kurt's hands fall away from his back, and then suddenly he's looming over him and stuffing his knee between Kurt and the wall, so that Kurt has to shift his ass to the side to make room for Blaine, who falls gracelessly so that he's perched across Kurt's lap in a straddle. He hears laughter erupt, one of the girls yelling, "Damn, get it, Blaine," loud enough to be heard over the thump of the bass, and they feel far enough away that he can just use both hands to send the same obscene message before they laugh again and he has to stop flipping them off so he can tangle both hands in Blaine's hair.

The world narrows sharply; he can feel the vibration of the seat beneath him perched directly over a sub-woofer, and Blaine is warm and heavier than he looks, and the press of his hips is insistent. He slides a hand down the convex curve of Blaine's back to tuck up under his ass, pulling his hips tight while his body bows away so he can keep his hands up Kurt's shirt, so his fingertips can drag and press.

"Gonna suck you, can't wait to taste you again," Blaine mumbles against his neck, and Kurt has to grab at his hips to keep Blaine from rutting against him.

For one small, dark second he thinks about it, imagines Blaine on his knees in the back of this bus. He's done it before, held a head between his palms while he locked eyes with somebody else, and it's heady, intoxicating – it's so _good_ to be so wanted, and for the world to see it.

Blaine keeps mumbling, though, pressing words to his skin in between kisses, and as Blaine slides his hands around Kurt's torso and pulls him away from the seat so that their bellies and chests press together, so that Kurt's own spine is a concave mirror of Blaine's, he says, "Want you, god I _love_ you, never want to stop touching you, _Kurt_."

Kurt moves his hands then, taking Blaine's face between his hands, and pulling him until they're face-to-face. Blaine's eyes are glassy, the pupils blown, and his cheeks are flushed. "Just wait, sweetheart. Wait until I have you alone." The endearment falls off his tongue, the old habit to call him that when he feels tender and protective rising up like it's just been waiting there, ready to be used again. Maybe it has, he can't tell, but when Blaine collapses against him and buries his face in Kurt's neck and goes still, Kurt whispers it into his hair, and Blaine shakes against him and clutches him tighter.

Later, after they've tripped up the stairs and Blaine has locked the door behind them, he gently maneuvers Kurt into the narrow shower. After they've rinsed away the last of the soap he eases Kurt up against the cold tiles and then drops to his knees. He takes a long time, tracing his fingertip over the crown and down the long purple vein and then following with his tongue. He lingers over the slit, squeezing out tiny beads of salt and slick so he can rub them over his lips and then lick the taste away. Blaine looks up through eyelashes dark and spiky with water when he does this, when his mouth is glossy with Kurt's precome, and Kurt's body is wrecked with fatigue and desire and so maybe that's why he feels like he wants to roar and cry and fall apart. When he holds Blaine's head between his palms, though, and he pushes his dick between those lips (still so tight, _god_ ), he can't look away, locked there by his gaze, in this moment that's just theirs, only theirs, with no clocks and no observers and no expectations but their own.


	7. Friday

From the moment Kurt opens his eyes his mind is full, busy with everything that needs to be done. He disentangles himself from Blaine with one soft kiss to his shoulder, stroking his hair until he settles back down, and then sits in the chair by the window.

He pulls his tablet from the table, and the first thing he sees is the personal blog entry he'd made on Wednesday. He rereads it quickly and just smiles, shaking his head.

He quickly shifts over into his list-making application, noting everything that needs to be done. It's going to be a busy day, full of things to take care of, and half of them have to be done with Tina a little bit in the dark. Suddenly he envies Blaine his morning run, the chance to think without anybody interrupting or asking questions.

Blaine shifts on the bed, rolling full on his back and reaching for Kurt. He drops his tablet on the table and goes to sit at the edge, waiting for Blaine to wake up enough to talk to him. Blaine's hand hits his leg and clings, and Kurt strokes some hair away from his face.

"I see you're joining us this morning," he says, watching his eyes flutter.

"Mmmm, hey," and Blaine's voice is still sleepy. "I was dreaming about you."

"Good things, I hope."

"No, it was –" Blaine clears his throat and opens his eyes. "It was bad. We were back on your front porch, and we were like we are now, but you were telling me that you hated me, that it was a mistake. And then Tina was there, and she was wearing her high school clothes but her hair was like it is now, and she was mad at me, too. And then we were at McKinley only it was – I mean, I _knew_ it was McKinley, but it looked like my building at school, and my parents were there and –"

Kurt strokes at his face. "Oh god, I hate dreams like that."

Blaine grabs at his hand and pulls. "Just – come here for a minute."

He lets Blaine pull him down, and Blaine curls up on his shoulder and rests his head there, running his hand over Kurt's shoulder.

"I'm right here, sweetheart," he coos as he strokes Blaine's hair, and for an instant he feels like an ass, but Blaine looks up at him with the sweetest smile.

"I still love that."

"I'm glad, because I don't appear to be able to stop saying it." He feels himself reddening a little and raises a hand to fix his hair.

Blaine intercepts it and presses a kiss to the palm. "No complaints from me. Say it all you want."

"I think I'm done for now, thanks."

"Ah, the romance is dead," but Blaine is grinning.

"The _romance_ is still getting its feet under it, and it's also incredibly distracted at the moment."

"Right, busy day." Blaine rolls over to lie next to him on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and finding his hand, lacing his fingers through it.

"It is. We both have a lot to do today."

"And then it'll be tomorrow."

"It will."

"I'm looking forward to it, Kurt," and the look on his face and the tone of his voice when he turns to Kurt make it pretty damn clear he's not talking about the wedding.

"So am I. I have been for days."

"Me too."

"Then why on _earth_ did you make that agreement with David?"

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. And also...." Kurt just watches him, waits for him to finish. "Well. I know it's ridiculous. It's just... I wanted to give you a little more time. I know it's not much, just a few days, but I could tell you were having some trouble with all of this, and I just... I wanted you to be able to really _decide_ , without jumping right back into bed."

"You mean this bed? The bed we're lying in right now?"

"I know, I _know_. Still. I feel like... there's a difference, I think, between what we've been doing so far and what I hope will happen tomorrow night."

"You mean, just," and Kurt makes an incredibly vague hand gesture.

"Well. Not just that, not really. But I want... I want time. I want to take all night with you, if we want to, without worrying about what needs to be done, or worrying about Tina walking in the next morning. I want to spread you out and get to know you again, _all_ of you, and I just thought... well. Give it a few days."

It's a heady thought, but he says, "You want epic, dirty, newlywed sex. Good thing you waited a few days."

Blaine just smiles back. "Yeah. Something like that. And look, we didn't even have to get married!"

Kurt just smiles at him, and says, "That might be a lot to ask for a first time back together."

"After the other morning?" Blaine chuckles and wipes a hand over his face. "God, I _really_ don't think that's a concern. I am _never_ giving up running, if that's what it inspires."

Kurt smiles and quirks a brow. "No complaints here." They're quiet for a minute, and then he says, as gently as he can, "Why weren't _you_ having trouble with all of this? It's been a long time."

"It has. It's also been a long time coming. I've been ready for this for months, just thinking about it. I've been pretty sure I wanted to try since last summer, and then when I saw you at Christmas... yeah." He stretches. "I'm prepared for you, Kurt Hummel. Gimme your worst."

Kurt quirks a brow at him and Blaine rolls his eyes and says, "Sure, why not, that too," and then he waggles his brows at Kurt and Kurt has to climb on top of him and crush him into a kiss. Blaine is still smiling against his mouth when he gets there.

–––

After they're up and breakfasted and showered, Blaine runs into town to raid Wal-Mart for blank CDs, jewel cases and liner inserts, and Kurt drags Wes upstairs with him to get photos for the inserts and then finishes up the layout. By the time Blaine is back, breathless from running around and then up the stairs, Kurt has transferred everything to a thumb drive and closed up his laptop, and then he feels guilty about handing Blaine his keys and asking him to run everything back down to the car so they don't forget them when they head out later. Blaine just presses a kiss against his temple and then goes off again, and Kurt shakes his head and smiles and starts packing up his sewing supplies – they'll need the table space later tonight.

He hears the cars from the window, and he looks out to see Blaine meeting both the rental truck _and_ the minivan full of musicians pulling up in the driveway. Blaine throws his arms around his friends, smiling and joyful to see them again. He'd gone all out for this wedding, calling in every favor he'd amassed as an undergrad at OSU to get people to play for this event. It won't be long, just some of the ceremony music, but Tina will be walking down the aisle to OSU's finest undergraduate string quartet, and remembering her squeal of joy when Blaine had told her about it and Blaine's grin in return left him smiling all over again.

He heads downstairs to work on the cakes, meeting David and Rachel on the stairs, who are running outside to work with the people from the rental company. In the kitchen Mia is frying pounds of bacon and Nicole is chopping her way through a pile of onions, eager to get most of the ingredient prep work out of the way before noon. The menu is simple and summer-stable, but as elegant as possible considering the entire dinner service will be buffet style – Tina and David hadn't wanted either the stuffiness or the expense of hiring servers – but they still have a lot of work to get through today and tomorrow morning. He rolls up his sleeves and washes his hands, pulls the cakes out of the refrigerator, and gets to work.

–––

The screen door slams and Mercedes, Tina, David, Wes and Rachel all spill into the kitchen, faces stormy and Tina is _pissed_. It turns out that, among other things, the rental company had misunderstood something about the electricity on the house and can't provide all the lighting they've ordered – it's either the table lighting _or_ the twinkly lights woven through the arbor on the part of the grass they're calling the dance floor. Kurt sags against the sink and just takes a moment to be grateful that the weather's going to hold out and they could cancel the tent – they would have lost the moonlight then and would have been in even more trouble.

"Okay. Look. Go into town, find a hardware store. It's summer, so canning jars should be cheap and they should be _everywhere_."

"Like, jam jars?"

"Yes, exactly. In fact, we'll reuse the ones from David's grandmother – the labels are still on them, with her handwriting – it'll add charm. Get... gosh. Get maybe 50 – no 75 – of those, and enough tea lights to fill them twice. We'll just use candles on the tables, lots of candles, and with the lighting from the ceiling it'll be fine. And they'll go with the wildflowers – it'll be very country relaxed, very summertime casual. And it'll be cheap. Tina, are you fine with that?"

"You don't think that's tacky?"

"It's very _casual_ , maybe, but look," he says, reaching for one of the empty, washed jars sitting by the sink. "See, it's meant to look like cut crystal. Only, obviously, not. We're not using them for glasses – it's not a _hoedown_ , for god's sake" – Tina grins at him – "but you're the one who wanted a relaxed, summer wedding. And, again, the wildflowers. Get the tiniest jars you can find, and I think it'll work." He looks at the jam jar, turning it in his hand. "And get a bag of sand while you're there. We'll put sand in the bottom, so the candle sort of... nestles down in there."

"Got it – jars, candles, sand."

"Oh, and lemons!" Tina narrows her eyes at him and he smiles and says, "For the _cooks_ , Tina," he clarifies, nodding toward where Mia and Nicole are still actively ignoring them. "They're losing it about lemonade. Get lemons, a _lot_ of lemons, bags and bags, and another bag of sugar, and some more club soda, and if you see a cheap electric juicer, get that, too. And then I think you're done."

Mercedes rolls her eyes and Tina chants the list under her breath and then they're off, and Wes and Rachel are arguing about the placement of tables on the lawn and Rachel's waving her hands _everywhere_ , and that's _enough_. "Rachel, your life will not be worth living if you stick your hand in Tina's wedding cake just to prove you were right. Out! Get out of the kitchen!"

–––

When Tina walks back into the kitchen, arms filled with bags, Kurt is frowning at the cakes and muttering to himself.

He smoothes at the buttercream, trying to get it as perfect as possible and mentally cursing Tina's distaste for fondant and yes, fine, it tastes like the sugary paste that it is, but at least it's _beautiful_. This is just a mess, and if he could just –

"Kurt!" He looks up and Tina is scowling at Mia and Nicole. "Has he been like this all afternoon?"

They just look back and forth at each other and refuse to say anything and Tina rolls her eyes.

"For fuck's sake, Kurt, come sit down and have a glass of lemonade."

"I don't have time for that – I have to finish these cakes and then I need to –"

"No you don't – I'm the bride and I _say_ that you don't. Come on, Kurt, don't care more about my wedding than I do – you'll just make me look bad."

He looks at her for a minute and then follows her into the dining room, slumping into the chair next to her. "How are you not a wreck right now?"

"I don't have to be – you're doing it for me." She runs her finger through the ring of condensation the glass is already leaving on the table, and ice clinks in her glass as she puts it down. "You know, the whole point of a wedding is to celebrate. I didn't mean to make you crazy."

He looks at her – she's completely serious. "You might have thought about that before you asked us to burn 150 CDs _yesterday_.

She winces. "Yeah – sorry about that. It just... it seemed like a good idea at the time?"

He grins at her. "Ah, yes. One of those."

"I have a lot of them – like asking my friends to do this for me. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry – it's been an honor. I just want it to be perfect."

"It will be – I'll marry David and you'll all be there to see. That's enough, it really is."

"As long as we finish the CDs in time."

" _God_ , yes," and Tina's smile is bright and sarcastic, and he loves her so much.

"Really, Kurt – is it going to be okay?"

He thinks about it, and then starts talking. "I have to finish preparing the cakes – I want them done so in the morning all we have to do is move them. You and Mercedes can get the candles ready for the tables, and then after the rehearsal I have to run into Columbus with the boys to make sure their clothes are sorted."

"You guys can't do that here?"

"No there's... god, you don't want to know the details, but no. And that's okay, really, because I have to pick up the programs anyway, and now we have to print jewel case liners," he glares at her, "and so I'd have to go in anyway. So then tonight Blaine and I will just be burning midnight oil and roughly a _thousand_ CDs. It's fine – we'll figure it out. When are your parents getting here?"

"God," she groans. "They're actually already in town – my mom called while Mercedes and I were running errands and so we stopped by the inn. David's parents are there, too, so all four of them were hanging out in my parents' suite, getting busy with what looked like _several_ bottles of champagne. The rehearsal is going to be interesting."

Kurt grins at her. "This is what happens when you let the parents be idle – you should have given them work to do."

"And let them call the shots? No way."

"Still. They have nothing to do but sit around and think, and you know how that always ends." He looks at her and says, "You know, you should have _them_ deal with the candles and the jars. After rehearsal, when I'm gone with the boys. Set them up here at the table and make them work for it. Make them do the lemonade, too."

She's sitting there, staring into her glass. "God, my mother would _love_ it. You should have seen how David's mother teared up when I told her what the jam was for, last week. Is it terrible that I didn't even think of getting them to help?"

He shrugs. "You've always liked doing things on your own – no reason to stop now. And after their reaction after you broke up with Mike – well, it makes sense. It sounds like they've come to really like David's parents, though?"

"It's still awkward, but they're trying. Our dads this afternoon, especially – they were sitting there talking about football like either of them gives a damn, and they're _so_ much alike, and someday I think they're going to be real friends. It's just been weird – my parents really know David now, they like him, but we should have had our parents getting together more often."

They hear the screen door slam, and Tina's mother's voice cries out, "hello?" and Tina sighs and mutters, "here we go" before she calls out, "In here!"

Tina's mom comes in first, and squeals, "oh, Kurt!" and then he's being gathered up and smothered again. Sarah Cohen-Chang is a force of nature – Tina comes by it honestly – and she's been trying to mother Kurt since he and Tina were in high school, so there's no use trying to stop her now.

He charms, he smiles at the parents, and then he gets the hell out of there and back to his kitchen, begging Nicole to let him take over for a minute while she takes out lemonade for the group.

–––

The rehearsal is a welcome break – everybody's out of the house except for him, Mia and Nicole, and they put their heads down and work. By the time the screen door's slamming again he has finished the cakes, as done as they're going to get tonight, and they're back in the refrigerator and he's just filling up two more piping bags with buttercream for disasters and repairs tomorrow. Rachel laughs all the way into the kitchen and says, "We're ordering pizza again. Totally appropriate for a rehearsal dinner, am I right?"

Mia and Nicole are lavish and a little pathetic in their thanks to her, and Kurt smiles to himself as he washes out a bowl – he's so glad somebody else is doing most of the cooking, and he's just as glad that they're getting out of here for the night.

After Blaine comes in, sweaty and happy from talking music with his friends, to drag him out of the kitchen for a shower and a slice, they stand in the living room and say their goodbyes. David's dad is coming along, telling Tina that he wants to see his boy all decked out before the big day. They take two cars so that Wes and David and David's dad can head straight back, and the drive back to Cleveland is easy, relaxed, almost reflexive by this point. Kurt keeps glancing over at Blaine, who's watching this nondescript patch of highway fly by. Twenty minutes in, Kurt asks about something he's been wondering: "Why grad school?"

Blaine shrugs. "It just seemed like the right thing to do, and they threw some money my way and since I didn't pay for anything in undergrad, I can afford to do it." He's quiet for a minute, and when Kurt glances at him, he's back to staring out the window. "God, I _loved_ my student teaching – it was a weird semester, being single again and being in the classroom all the time – but it was amazing. It's better, though, for me to get a little more experience under my belt, get a little older, before I'm in a classroom fulltime."

"Did something go wrong?"

"No, not at all. Just... I thought about my own time in high school _so much_ – we were so independent at Dalton, we really had no direction at all, and I couldn't stop thinking about what it would have been like if somebody had really taken the group of us under a wing. And then at McKinley – I mean, we loved Mr Schue as far as that went, but now that I'm an educator it's so clear how overly enmeshed he was with New Directions. It's not appropriate, and being farther away from my own experience can only help with that."

Blaine pauses for a long time and Kurt waits until he continues, his voice soft, reflective. "There was a boy in the chorus there, a freshman named Ryan. He reminded me _so much_ of you – not physically, but his mannerisms, and god, his wit. He was 14, and I'm not even sure he was out to _himself_ yet, but it was coming. I wanted to just wrap him up, keep him safe, protect him against what was coming. And it would have been the absolute worst thing for him, because even in the time that I was there he grew so much, really came into his own a little – kids are remarkable, you know?"

"Did he ever come out while you were there?"

"Not that I ever heard about. But he stopped being so timid about speaking up for himself, found some good friends. Just... his _body_ was looser, he smiled more, he was even in better voice – he was easier in himself somehow. If I'd tried to make a pet project of him, he never would have learned to do that for himself, and god knows he'll need it."

Kurt smiles. "Sounds familiar."

"Yeah. I told you, he reminded me of you. I thought about it a lot, what you must have been like before I knew you." Blaine reaches across the car and puts a gentle hand on Kurt's knee. "It... this sounds ridiculous, but... I'm so far from done with you. I think I'll always want to know more about you."

Blaine's hand is warm and soft on Kurt's knee but mostly what he feels is this incredible _tug_ between them, like a line straight between himself and Blaine that quivers and shakes and pulls, always pulls, and he wants _so badly_ to hurl himself across the few feet that separate them. Instead he says, "And so that's why New York."

Blaine watches him and says, "Well, yeah. That's a part of it."

"What's the other part?"

"Shit, Kurt, _New York_!" Kurt laughs. "It's not like I didn't _want_ to go there – there's still no place quite like it for a musician. And, I mean – Columbia's program is amazing, it really is."

"Oh, Blaine, you are going to _love it_ there. I can't _wait_ to show you _everything_." He glances at Blaine, whose head is rocking back against the headrest, turned toward him with an eager smile.

"Are you still living in the East Village?"

"God, no – the rent was too steep, and two years of that just about cleaned me out. At the beginning of junior year I moved out to Brooklyn, and ended up with two of the worst roommates known to man."

Blaine grins. "Tell me about them."

So he tells Blaine about Tara, with her phallic art and her disturbing habit of asking her male friends to model for her, and about Joseph, who seems to need to fry everything he eats and who is still deep in the middle of a seafood craze, and his partner Jamie, who spent all spring smoking her way through her student loan money. "So, basically, the whole apartment reeks of fried fish, turpentine, and pot smoke _all the time_ – when I pulled things out of my suitcase in Lima I had to have everything cleaned before Carole would stop looking at me sideways. My woolens are living in _plastic bags_ , Blaine, and I have to be _very_ careful to be fully dressed at all times in case Tara ambushes me again! It's ridiculous."

"So why don't you move?"

"It's such a hassle to find a new place, and I've settled in there. Manhattan is so expensive, and most of what I'm covering is downtown, so it's really just Brooklyn or Hoboken, and, just, _no_. And the commute's not terrible, so." He shrugs. "I'm just used to it, I suppose."

Blaine's quiet, looking out the window, and then he says, "What's the commute like between Brooklyn and Morningside Heights?"

Kurt shrugs. "It depends on the time of day, but probably at least an hour."

"An _hour_?" Blaine says, distress clear in his voice.

"Blaine, between walking and train schedules, it takes an hour to get _anywhere_ – you're still too used to Ohio."

"God, I'm never going to see you!"

Kurt just smiles. "Oh, it'll be fine. We'll have all weekend, and during the week you'll be busy with school and performances, and god knows I'll have enough to figure out with the new job. But we can meet in midtown for dinner, and there are enough events there and on the Upper West Side that I can stop in afterward."

"You mean booty calls."

"I mean crashing at a friend's place."

"You mean spending the night with your boyfriend."

Kurt smiles – it's been a long time, but it still feels good. "Well. I guess I do."

–––

The hotel room where they're meeting to practice and record is full of familiar faces and empty beer bottles, and it's good to see so many of their era of the Warblers – it's heartwarming how many have made it out for this, how many have dropped what they were doing and traveled to be here, and although a lot of these guys were at the party last night and seem to be enjoying each other's company, he hasn't seen most of these faces in years – he shouldn't have let them all go so completely. The handful of men from David's chorus are friendly, polite, and mingling well – it's a pleasant room, warm and excited

The rehearsal goes surprisingly smoothly, and Kurt revels in watching Blaine manage it. He's come so far, he's _grown_ so much. Blaine has always been a leader, the voice that people turned to when they needed direction. At first it had seemed natural – Kurt had always done the same thing, after all – but the more he'd come to know Blaine, the sillier it had seemed. Blaine wasn't perfect, he was kind of an attention whore, he was too easily hurt and reactionary because of his own experiences. Watching this Blaine, though, he's _different_ – he's still likely to use humor to get what he needs out of people, but he wears his authority better, somehow more sure that it's owed to him, and he's not the same Warbler featured soloist he always was, but more of their leader.

During the second pass through the recording he watches David's dad while they sing, watches him sit on the edge of a bed and watch David sing out a ballad for Tina, surrounded and backed up by his old friends. David is his usual calm self, but even he is starting to crack a little, overwhelmed by everything that's going on, and when he sinks back to the bed while Nathan fiddles with the equipment for one last take, his dad puts his hand on his shoulder and they turn to each other and smile tightly, and it's like watching two halves of one whole hold each other up. Kurt has to look away, and he meets Blaine's eyes, sad and a little mournful, and he moves a little closer.

The final recording session goes well, and after they've shared a beer and caught up a little they walk down to the parking lot with Nathan so Blaine can give him a little something for gas and thank him profusely, and then they sit in the car and listen to the master. It sounds _good_ – whatever Nathan had done to minimize echo had worked, and their voices sound clear; sharp, but not tinny.

"You're still in good voice," Blaine says.

"God, I'm so out of practice – I'm glad I was able to pull it off."

"You really don't sing anymore at all, then." Blaine looks sad, disappointed.

"Just in the shower and around the apartment, really."

"Do you miss it?"

Kurt looks at his hands for just a second. "Honestly, I haven't had time to miss it. But right now? I do. It felt... transcendent."

"Mmmm. We should find you a chorus."

Kurt laughs and shakes his head. "There's no way I'd make it through an audition now."

Blaine tilts his head and looks at him. "Give me some 'Blackbird'."

" _Now?_ "

"Come on, Kurt – you know I love it."

He looks at him for a long minute, smiling at the memory. He remembers singing that first verse _everywhere_ during their time together – against Blaine's hair in the back seat of his car, into Blaine's phone so he could use it as a ring tone, down the line late at night when they were supposed to be asleep – and there have been times over the last four years where he'd catch himself singing it in the shower. He used to stop himself, scowl and search his memory for any other earworm, but over the last couple of years it's become _his_ again, just one more beautiful song.

So he sings it, and by the time he finishes the last line of the first verse ("you were only waiting for this moment to arise") Blaine has moved across the seat and is sliding his hand into Kurt's hair and kissing him hard, pulling him across the center console and reaching for him with his other hand.

Blaine breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against Kurt's. "Yeah. That's your audition piece."

"If it gets a reaction like that, I'll be set."

Blaine just grins against him, and kisses him again. Eventually he pulls away and slides back into his seat, saying, "You'll have to rehearse it, of course, but I'm up to the task."

"Oh, Blaine, you give and you give," he responds as he turns the keys in the ignition.

–––

At Kinko's Blaine heads straight for the color printers to start cranking out the jewel case liners while Kurt goes to the counter to pick up the programs he'd emailed over for printing and assembly the day before. Everything looks fine, so while the guy boxes them up he joins Blaine by the printers and starts ripping apart the inserts and filling jewel cases as fast as he can.

He's finished not even a third of them by the time Blaine is done printing, and they gather everything into bags and set back off for the car, eager to get home and finish up. The night has started to wear on now, and when Blaine offers to drive Kurt is happy to let him, so he can just sit in the passenger seat and be still for the hour it'll take them to get back to Marblehead.

He means to go over his mental list, to straighten out in his head how tomorrow is going to go, but instead he sits and watches Blaine drive. His face is filled with expression and energy as he sings along to the radio turned down low, and his thumbs occasionally tap along in rhythm along the steering wheel. It's so familiar, Blaine driving his old car, even as Blaine is this different, mature, wonderful person, and he sags back into the door and says, "I love you."

Blaine's eyes dart toward him and then back to the road, but he smiles.

"Say that again."

"I love you?" but he can't help smiling back.

"Oh, now it's a question?"

"Blaine."

"I'm sorry. Here, let me –" Blaine slows and turns into the parking lot of a ramshackle bar, parking close to the road. He leaves the car running but turns to Kurt, leaning back against the driver's side door, and says, "Okay, now: hit me."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Now I just feel ridiculous."

"I can sit here all night." He pauses, and then says, a smile in his voice. "I could go in, have a beer, make friends with the locals, and you could just text me when you're ready."

Kurt looks at him, at his cheeky smile and the affection in his eyes. He looks past him to the shell parking lot and the shabby red brick of the bar, and none of it is remotely romantic, none of it is how he thought this might happen again, except for one thing, so he says, "Blaine, for reasons that escape me at the moment, I love you."

"And I love you, for too many reasons to mention. Now come here," he says, holding out his arms.

Kurt goes, slides across the seat and leans across the console and kisses him, long and sweet and soft. When he pulls back, he says it again and again, his mouth sliding wet against Blaine's, like if he just spills the words out right there in the small space between them then they're safe, protected. "God, I _love_ you. I always did; I still do. Stay with me this time, _please_ , just stay."

"Shhh, shhh, I love you, I'm right here. It's not so hard to say to me, is it?" Blaine's hands are tender, stroking at his hair and down along his neck.

He shakes his head and buries it against Blaine's neck, and he says, "You have no idea."

–––

It's eleven by the time they make it back to the house, and they stop into the living room to say their goodnights. Tina and David's parents are interspersed among the more familiar faces, chatting and drinking and nibbling at pizza crusts. Tina's mom is talking to Rachel and Mercedes, and her dad is nodding along with Mia and Nicole, talking about the food for tomorrow. David's parents are on the long sofa, with Wes sitting at the other end, trying to hold up conversation while Tina and David sprawl on the floor at their feet, holding hands and looking at each other. Sarah gives him a long look and a fond smile, and he feels the weight of Blaine's hand at the small of his back and winks back at her before they excuse themselves. They clamber up the stairs, plastic carrier bags bulging and bumping along the walls, and dump everything into a heap next to Kurt's bed. And then they get to work.

By 2 am they've finished burning two-thirds of the disks and have stuffed all the jewel cases. They've been peeling off clothes since everybody else turned in, and Kurt has given up and stretched out on his belly in his underwear, watching iTunes burn each CD like his life depends on the completion indicator crawling across the screen. Blaine brewed coffee an hour ago, and Kurt wants another cup but he can't get up – he's just too tired. He gives up and pillows his head on his arms and watches Blaine.

He's sitting in the desk chair, bare legs sprawled out in front of him. He's lost his pants and is sitting there in boxers and a t-shirt. He's illuminated from the glow of his laptop and the bedside lamp, and the light bounces off his hair, where his head is bent to the guitar in his lap. The window is open so he can hear the frogs and the cicadas singing into the night, and Blaine's playing soft and low, nothing Kurt recognizes, something more technically complicated than he remembers ever hearing him play before.

"You've gotten better," Kurt says in a drowsy mumble.

Blaine looks up at him then and gives him a sleepy smile, his fingers continuing to work the strings. "Yeah. There was no piano in the dorms, and the guitar always went over better than singing. I played a lot."

"It's nice. What is that?"

Blaine glances up through long lashes and tosses off a casual shrug. "Just something I've been working on a little bit. Just playing around."

"I like it – it's pretty."

"I'm glad." Blaine looks up and gives him a sweet smile, and keeps playing. Kurt keeps watching, and the light is soft and the night is quiet and Blaine is right there, so beautiful.

–––

"Baby, wake up a little."

Everything's fuzzy, darker, quiet, and Blaine's hand is sweeping up and down his bare back. When he opens his eyes his laptop has disappeared and Blaine is perched next to him on the bed. He startles, lifting his head and saying, "No, wait, I need to –"

"Shh, don't worry about it. You can do it in the morning. Come to bed with me now."

Blaine shoves at him and he rolls over a little so that Blaine can strip down the blankets, down to just the top sheet, and he flips around and crawls under. Blaine curls up behind him, sliding one arm around his waist and pulling him close.

"Did you finish the CDs?" he asks, rubbing at his eyes.

"Just a handful left – it's fine. I'll take care of it in the morning. Now shhhh, we have a big day tomorrow."

Blaine's hand is broad across his belly, and the air from the window is cool and sweet. Blaine murmurs, "Love you," into his hair, and Kurt drifts off with a sweet smile on his face.


	8. Saturday

Kurt had set his alarm for early, but when he wakes half an hour after he'd set it he sees that it's been turned off and Blaine is gone. He lies in bed for just a moment and thinks about everything he has to do today, about Tina's wedding, about tonight, about telling Blaine that he loves him. It had felt right so suddenly, and for a moment he lets himself worry about that. But then he thinks about last night, about how quiet the room had been and how _easy_ it still is, and he thinks about how hard the last four years have been, and he stretches and smiles.

His bedroom door opens, and he looks over to see Blaine peeking in. "Oh. You're awake," and he pushes the door open and pads in on socked feet to sit on the edge of the bed.

Blaine's in a t-shirt and running shorts, and he's sweaty and his hair has started to go a little frizzy around his face. His eyes are bright, though, and he looks happy, alive.

"Just barely. I assume you're the person who turned off my alarm?"

His smile is sheepish when he says, "Guilty. But you were sleeping pretty hard, and I thought I could buy you another 30 minutes. Is that okay?"

Kurt stretches, and says, "It's fine. I have a lot to do, but it was nice to wake up on my own." He looks at Blaine for another minute, at his sweet smile, and says, "C'mere," stretching out a hand.

Blaine says, "I'm all sweaty," but he leans down anyway.

"Don't care," Kurt mumbles against Blaine's lips, sliding a hand into the back of Blaine's hair and tangling it there. He wants to pull him back to bed, wants a simpler, more joyful reenactment of the other morning, but he can't shake the lists running through his head, and when Blaine pulls back to rest his forehead against Kurt's and run his hand down Kurt's side, he shivers and then throws back the blankets.

"You're getting up already?" Blaine's pouting now, hovering over him and looking adorable.

"No rest for the wickedly fantastic. How many more CDs do we have to finish?"

Blaine pulls a face. "About 40?"

" _40?_ " Kurt pushes out of bed and stands, running his hands through his hair. "You said we were almost done!"

"I know, I just didn't want you trying to stay up to finish them."

"Blaine!" Kurt's frazzled now, looking around for his laptop, which he can't find anywhere.

"Hey, relax." Blaine stands and grabs Kurt's shoulders. "Relax, okay? We'll get them done. I put a pair on when I left on my run and put two more on when I got back. In a minute I'll go check in again and do two more, and then we're down to almost 30. It's fine, okay? It'll be fine."

Kurt looks at him and breathes. "I need to make a list."

"That's fine. Hey –" he squeezes at his shoulders, "We'll get it done, okay? We don't really need to start getting ready until like four, and it's only 8. We have _tons_ of time."

–––

By noon Kurt begins to think Blaine was right. At ten the screen door slammed and the house was suddenly filled with a sea of old friends, eager to pitch in to help. He and Blaine pressed Santana and Quinn into service, keeping eye over their laptops while they burned the last of the CDs. (They'd both had to threaten Santana with some future, unknown repayment to keep her from rummaging in their hard drives, but Quinn had lifted her chin and said she'd keep her in line. God help them all.) Finn and Sam had driven up together just that morning and were glad to take some time to lounge on the sofa, catching up with everybody.

Their friendship is something that Kurt has been amazed by over the last few years. The Evans family had moved back to Tennessee for work the summer before their senior year of high school, breaking Mercedes's heart and leaving a surprising hole in New Directions – at the time, Kurt remembers thinking that nobody had really understood how much they had appreciated Sam and his quiet strength until he was gone. There had been one last party at Puck's house, a spirited going-away that turned weepier as the night went on and everybody got drunker, and then that had been it, except for Facebook.

In the spring of their first year out of high school, Sam had mentioned on Facebook that he was thinking about going to Alaska to work for the summer. His grandparents had bought into Tennessee's prepaid college tuition plan years ago and so he was still in school, but even with accommodations school was hard for him and he felt like he needed to be somewhere else, to be physical for a few months, and he was looking for a place to be far away from everything going on with his family and to earn a little cash. Kurt hadn't been surprised to see the post, had thought it was probably a good move for Sam, and hadn't thought much more about it.

A week later Finn had emailed, asking if Kurt minded if Sam came and stayed with them for the summer. He still doesn't know all the details of how it happened, particularly of what Finn said to convince his Dad, but by the time he got home that summer Sam was already there, ensconced in their basement. He'd been a dream houseguest, up every morning to make breakfast for his Dad and Finn before they went to the shop together, and his Dad had mentioned more than once that Sam would make a fine mechanic if he ever set his mind to it.

It's always a little bit awkward, just for the first hour or so, integrating Sam back into even this increasingly loose-knit group. There are so many things that most of them share that Sam just doesn't get, especially related to the events of Senior Year, and when they're together there's always a tendency to fall back on those jokes and memories. And, too, there's the Mercedes issue; she'd been hurt by the way he left, by how sudden the turn was, and the last few times Sam was around she'd been quiet. But Sam and Tina and David had somehow bonded over that summer Sam spent back in Lima, and the joy on Tina's face when he walks in and sweeps her up and twirls her in a circle makes Kurt smile.

So Finn and Sam sprawl across one of the sofas and the girls cluster around them, perched on the arms and, in Tina's case, sprawling across them, as they flip through photos on Sam's phone and he talks about what he's been doing since he dropped out of school, about working at Douglas Lake fixing boat engines and the sagging porches of summer houses, and Tina pokes at his cheek and calls him "a Viking savage" for his white-blonde hair and deep tan. The CDs finish up and Quinn and Santana drift in just after Kurt finishes cutting garnishes for Mia, and Blaine and David finish walking over the property and making sure they're ready for last details. One by one they all reconvene in the living room, ready for one last quiet moment together.

Eventually Rachel orders more pizza ( _so_ much pizza this week, it's ridiculous, but it's cheap and fast and Mia and Nicole have been glaring at people who set foot in the kitchen after 10 am and pizza can come to _them_ , which is really the important point), and suddenly it's 2 pm. When there's a lull in the conversation Kurt looks at Tina, and when she makes eye contact with him she gives him a nervous smile, and then a nod.

"Okay, people," he says, raising his voice both in volume and pitch. "I think it's time to do the last minute details, and then we have to start getting ready. Tina and David are getting married today."

They're quiet for a minute, and then the whole room breaks out into grins and they start hauling themselves off the sofas. The florists are coming in just an hour, leaving everything a little late so that the flowers don't wilt in the afternoon sun, and the last thing they need to do is put out the candles. While Rachel and Nicole gather the pizza boxes and paper plates into trash bags, and Wes fiddles with his camera, Kurt hauls David, Blaine, Finn and Sam over to the boxes of impromptu lanterns stacked by the door.

Kurt stacks a couple of boxes in each of their arms, and everything is going _fine_ until Finn stumbles over some invisible seam in the carpets and plows into David's back, who in turn tips forward, dropping his boxes on the ground. Finn, _being Finn_ , immediately drops his boxes as well, rushing to David's aid to help him up, all while Kurt watches on in growing horror.

Tina rushes over, pulling David to his feet and brushing him off. David's "I'm fine, no, seriously, I'm _fine_ ," rises over the general mayhem of the room, and all Kurt can see for one moment is how wide Quinn's eyes are over where she's raised her hand to cover her mouth in horror. And then everything is moving again.

David _is_ fine, just a little red at the knees where he'd slid forward across the carpet, but both his and Finn's boxes have fallen upside down, spilling jars and tealights and oh, god, sand is _everywhere_ , all over the carpet.

"Rachel! We need a vacuum cleaner!" Kurt calls out, his hands on his hips as he surveys the damage.

She runs in from the kitchen and stands there agape while horrified silence falls over the room again, and then she says, "Oh, damn. Well. Actually, I think glitter was preferable."

–––

Two hours later they've set up outside and cleaned up the mess in the living room and everybody's rushed off to shower and dress; it's still only four but they have to be prepared for guests, and the florists have just left and Wes has snapped pictures and Kurt has declared the space on the lawn ready. They'd played around there for a few minutes once the candles and flowers were in place, David sweeping Tina into a dance without music while everybody else watched on and smiled.

Kurt and Blaine move around each other gracefully, showering and changing. Kurt's waiting until the last possible minute to slip into his linen trousers, always concerned about creases, and Blaine waits to put on his tie and jacket until after he's shaved and finished his hair.

While they're jockeying for mirror space, Blaine finishes patting on his aftershave and says, "So you're leaving tomorrow?"

Kurt freezes, hand halfway to his hair. "Yes. I am." He shakes his head, and goes back to fiddling with that last recalcitrant strand. "I can't believe I'd forgotten."

"What are you going back to?"

"Well, like I said – I'll be in Lima until next Saturday morning. I don't think there's anything planned for that week, just spending time with my parents. And then I have to get back to New York, because I'm starting the new job the Monday after."

Blaine grins while he squeezes a dollop of product into his hand. "Are you nervous about it?"

"Not really," Kurt says with a shrug. "I know them all already. And the first week will likely be more of the same, just more in the office than I'm used to." He finishes with his hair and leans forward to look at his face a little more closely, trying to decide if it's a day for the concealer pen. "If anything, maybe the full-time part of it is intimidating? Imma be a _working man_. Well. Such as it is."

Blaine finishes running the last bit of product through his hair and starts arranging the curls, wrapping them around his fingers. "Not exactly what you grew up with, is it?"

"Not exactly, no. No coveralls, for one thing." He leans back and then turns to look at Blaine, then puts his hand on his shoulders and nods to his hair and says, "Can I?"

Blaine shuffles over in front of him. "What does your dad think about that?" he says, lowering his head a little.

Kurt gets his hands in his hair, twisting the curls just a little. "Oh, you know my dad. He doesn't quite understand it, and he still tells everybody all about it." Kurt smiles at him. "I will tell you, though, just between us?" He leans forward and whispers, "Sometimes I still feel like such a fraud."

Blaine closes his eyes and turns his head into Kurt's hands in his hair, his breath against his cheek, and murmurs, "Mmm, Ohio boy in the big city?" and his voice is quiet, low and gravelly and intimate.

"Something like that. Maybe more like, mechanic's son attached to his laptop."

"Do you miss the cars?" Blaine's eyes are still closed, and his voice has gone a little dreamy, a little far–away.

"Not really, no. They're noisy and smelly and _so_ dirty. I do miss working with my hands, though. Sometimes. I think I need a hobby. Maybe I'll take up knitting or something."

"You have such _good_ hands," Blaine sighs, and he opens his eyes and looks at Kurt, all dreamy-eyed and distant. Kurt grins at him and finishes with his hair and kisses his nose, moving away to wash his hands.

"I'm glad you like them. You have any ideas for keeping them busy?"

Blaine smirks at him and says, "Oh, now you're just teasing," and he digs his hands into Kurt's hips, sliding against the smooth fabric of his boxer briefs, and pulling him into a kiss. Kurt kisses him there in the steamy bathroom, and lets one hand rest against Blaine's smooth cheek, still the tiniest bit tacky from his aftershave gel. He smells so _good_ , clean and herbal and woodsy and just right, and he tastes like toothpaste and it's love, god, this is love, and it's his.

–––

"Okay, ladies, it's time," he says, finally dressed and knocking at Mercedes' bedroom door and pushing it open.

It's quiet, and Tina is standing in front of the dresser, staring at herself in the mirror. She's perfectly still, just staring. "Tina, are you okay?"

She blinks then. "I'm fine. God, Kurt, I am... I'm completely fine. Totally. Fine, I mean."

He watches her, watches the reflection of himself watching her. "You've said that three times, so I'm starting to doubt you."

She meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles, saying, "No. Really. I just... maybe I'm a little freaked out that I'm so fine?"

He just looks at her. "Okay, you've lost me here." She picks up a brush and runs it through her hair, watching her reflection. "Can you, like, give me a signal? Blink your eyes three times if I need to go have a really awkward conversation with David, or something?"

She smiles and blinks at him once, twice, and then laughs at him. "Really, Kurt. I'm fine. I think I expected maybe not to be? You see so many movies, you know – those romantic comedies really get in your head." She turns and rests her butt on the ledge of the dressing table, smacking the hairbrush against her hand. "But I feel like.... This is just what happens now. We've been talking about this for so long, and we've been planning and... it's David. He won't hurt me, he would _never_ hurt me. So today, I'm going to marry him. It's just that simple."

"Really?" He knows he sounds a bit skeptical, but the look on her face is twitching between manic and serene, and he can't tell what's going on with her. It's something in her eyes, something new.

"Really. Let's do this bitch!" she cries, hairbrush held aloft, and then she's unbuttoning her shirt.

"Damn, Tina! Okay, let me get into the bathroom."

"Kurt, how many times have you seen me getting dressed?"

But he's already slipping into the other room, hissing at her. "Shut up, we should pretend to have some decorum – your mother could walk in at any moment, and I don't need the Sarah Cohen-Chang stink eye all day."

She laughs as he closes the door and leans his head against it, catching his breath – he'll never tell her, but she'd had him going with that blinking thing. He was already halfway through imagining how on earth he was going to tell David that Tina had put him through this for no good reason before she'd finally broken. _Bitch_ , one of his very favorites, and he smiles.

"Okay, princess, all essential parts covered."

He walks back out and zips her back into her dress. "Where's Mercedes? I can't believe she's shirking her duties again."

"She was talking to Sam – I didn't want to bother her."

"Tina! It's her job, to be bothered by you!" he says as he finishes the hooks at the top and then stoops to fluff her crinolines, reaching under her skirt and thank god her mother _isn't_ here. "And her and Sam? We're really going there again?"

"Mhmm, I think so," she says, gossipy and conspiratory.

"You think they're interested?" he asks a little absently, looking over the line of her dress with a critical eye. There's nothing to see, though – it's perfect.

"Oh, who could ever tell with Sam. And Mercedes – I don't know. She's still so fucked up over Mitchell, but maybe? Maybe it could be just the thing she needs."

He looks at her, at her sly smile, and says. "Hmmm. I think it's good that you're going to be somewhere else for a little while. You've turned into a vicious matchmaker."

"Says the man who was reunited with his high school sweetheart by my machinations."

"I very clearly remember a conversation where you said you were staying out of that."

"All part of my brilliant plan." He rolls his eyes, but she says, "Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

"I think it just might have."

"Exactly."

There's a knock on the door, and Tina's mom and Mercedes both spill in, eager to help Tina with the rest of her getting ready. He waits for a minute to see if they need him, and then he meets Tina's eyes in the mirror and winks and blows her a kiss, and then he slips out the door.

She's ready.

–––

He and Rachel sit together on the aisle, just behind Tina's parents. Blaine's smile for him just as the strings pick up into a processional is small and private and sweet, and Rachel squeezes his hand and then squeezes tighter when Mercedes steps from behind the crowd and walks slowly down the aisle, and then there's Tina and oh god, this is actually happening – one of them is getting married.

Kurt watches her marry David and remembers. He remembers her stutter; critiquing and supervising her goth cheerleader ensemble; laughing with her while they finish Mercedes' Frank-N-Furter makeup; checking his phone in a Hot Topic so he could pretend he was _anywhere_ else while she bought another 6 sets of multi-colored hair extensions; her laugh at the graduation afterparty, where she'd sat drunk and loose and relaxed and draped over Mike's lap; the summer afternoon they'd driven to Columbus to get her hair cut off; the grimace on her face as she'd gotten her first tattoo; the way she smiled when David laughed at her and pulled her across his lap for a spanking, and how she'd raised her brows at Kurt when he was done; her serious face just days ago, when they'd lain together in his bed and talked about love and sex and commitment.

Rachel's already crying, and so is Tina's mother, and so what the hell – he might as well join in. The three of them can cry, because Tina's face is radiant, joyous, and she's moving on.

–––

David draws Tina into a kiss, laying his hand across her jaw and turning her face toward him, and Kurt takes just a moment to join in the cheering before he stands and moves to the middle of the aisle. He can hear and feel people closing in around him, jostling to fit into the spaces as quietly as possible, as he watches David kiss Tina, bending her back just a little as she clutches to his shoulders, and when the kiss is wrapping up, when they're pulling back to stare at each other, he quietly hums a note and starts counting off.

The middle voices come in with the rhythm steady and slow, and then he soars above them, la-la-ing and grinning, because Tina has turned to face them, her eyes wide and surprised, and David is taking Tina's hands in his and Blaine is moving to join the group, David's face so serious and Blaine backing him up in tempo. The doowop guys are continuing to rock the falsetto, woo-ing like a choir of the silliest, most wonderful angels, and then David launches into his part.

 _I don't get many things right the first time  
In fact, I am told that a lot  
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls brought me here  
And where was I before the day  
That I first saw your lovely face  
Now I see it every day  
And I know that I am,  
I am,  
I am the luckiest._

Blaine takes his hand and he soars with the other high voices, all of them in unison, flying above the rest of the voices holding them up. It's a beautiful moment – he's part of something so much bigger than himself, the wind is in his hair, the sun is on his skin, and he can't stop watching Tina, who is quietly and beautifully crumbling. He's seen her like this before – in high school she'd been so easily overwhelmed by how deeply she could feel and he had been embarrassed for her then, so ashamed that she didn't know how to conceal the things that were most precious to her. Now he watches her eyes fill with tears, watches them streak down her face (not a hint of black among them, he's delighted to see) and he loves her for it, appreciates her tender heart for the gift that it is.

He squeezes Blaine's hand, moves a little closer to him, and he sings, for Tina, for David, for himself and for Blaine. He sings.

–––

"What I need you all to understand is that I spent the better part of three days making this thing. Do you remember how I behaved when we had to scrap the bow ties senior year?" Everybody winces. "Exactly. And those were ridiculous to begin with. This, however," and he gestures with a flourish to the three layers of cake sitting on the countertop before them, "is not. This is a beautiful, handmade white cake with heirloom strawberry filling and champagne syrup and meticulously applied buttercream icing. Do not – Finn, I'm looking at you, make eye contact, please – do _not_ fuck this up."

Sam looks serious, Finn looks like he needs a bathroom, and Blaine is clearly trying not to laugh. He throws up his hands. "Oh, forget it. Let's just... let's just do it. Just... for fuck's sake, _please_ be careful."

Nobody moves.

"Well! Don't just stand there! Pick the damn cakes up!"

Finn stumbles toward the counter, and Kurt grabs his arm. "Finn Hudson, I know where you live. I will... I'll _tell your mother_ if you destroy Tina's cake, do you hear me?" and when Finn blanches, that's when he knows he's got him.

Blaine moves up behind him and lays a hand on Kurt's arm. "Kurt. Kurt, honey, come on. Go easy on him. If he starts shaking, he's useless to you."

He gives Finn one more glare, and then says, "Fine. _Fine_. Finn, I mean it though. Please just... be as careful as you know how to be." Kurt mutters under his breath as he moves to hold the back door open. "Oh my god, why did I think Finn would be useful for this? Santana – I should have gotten Santana and Quinn. Flexible, _graceful_ former cheerleaders."

They parade out the door – Sam in the lead with the bottom layer, smiling at him as he clears the threshold; Finn right behind him, his eyes trained on the middle layer; and Blaine bringing up the back with the top, jewels already in place. He pulls the door shut and walks behind them, and when he hears Finn say, "Dude, I'm _so glad_ you're back with Kurt. Does this mean you're going to be coming home with him all the time? Because that would be _awesome_ ," he allows himself one vicious smile before he hurries ahead of them to ready the table.

–––

The cake has been cut, most of the food has been eaten, and god knows the bar has been busy – Mia's finally just pulled a chair over there so she can rest between takers. Kurt's leaning against the bar, ready to help her out, while Blaine is chatting with the last of the musicians from OSU who are still lingering, enjoying the free food and drinks before they get back on the road.

The playlist swings into "Make Me Better" and the energy takes a jump – the music is pouring into the open air but it feels like the chairs are vibrating from the bass, and everybody who has a willing dance partner hits the floor, some of them even dragging unwilling partners along behind them until they're under the gentle twinkling lights all over the arbor. A gaggle of Tina's girlfriends pass in front of him, heading in to do one of their girl group dances, and then the crowd clears and he can see his people.

David is singing to Tina, being adorable and silly and she's laughing, always laughing. Mercedes and Sam are dancing together, Sam looking dumbstruck and Mercedes managing to look both shy and smug through her smile. Santana has grabbed Quinn and is grinding ridiculously against her, crowing into her ear while Quinn laughs hysterically and just holds onto her shoulders for the ride. Finn and Rachel and Wes and Nicole are all at a table together, laughing and chatting like old friends, Finn and Nicole locked into some kind of epic tete-a-tete and Rachel and Wes leaning against each other while Wes fiddles with his camera and half-heartedly scans the area for photo opportunities. Even the parents are feeling it, a little drunk at their table and smiling indulgently at the young people, and the grandmothers are chair–dancing by their sides.

He smiles, then, because this is exactly what Tina had wanted – the best night, the most fun, just simple and relaxed and happy. They nailed it.

And then the music changes again, and it's so familiar that he laughs, and then suddenly Tina and Mercedes are both rushing him and pulling him onto the dance floor. He shakes his head and says he can't, they _shouldn't_ , it's _ridiculous_ , and then Tina screams and waves her hand at him and says, "Kurt, he _put a ring on it_ – you _have_ to dance with me," and then he's standing in the middle of the dance floor and everybody's staring and Tina shoves him hard in the back and fine, _fine_.

He's not sixteen anymore, and he doesn't even remember the steps. It's funny, the things you can forget and the things that never leave you. Mostly he's glad to still have his girls there to dance with him, even if Brittany's long gone, but he dances with Tina and Mercedes, and they both laugh at him as they all do the silly little hand flips in unison. Tina, somehow, remembers more of it than he does, maybe because she's a little more drunk, and he's happy to back her up as best he can. It's not the dance that made him McKinley-High-Famous, the dance that set him free to be the freaky little babygay he was in high school, but it's ridiculous and he can't stop laughing, none of them can.

Wes has a broad grin as he circles them with his camera, and Kurt gives him an eye roll and a wink and a little extra oomph for one cock of his hip. Sarah Cohen-Chang is still over at her table, grinning at them and doing the little hand flips along with Tina. He looks over at Blaine, tossing back his head while he slaps his ass just once, and Blaine's grinning, his arms folded over his chest while he watches him. He tosses him a wink and blows him a kiss, and Blaine raises his brows at him and mouths, "Later".

–––

The night is winding down – the tealights are starting to flicker in their jars, most of the women have lost their shoes and are dancing in bare feet or stockings in the grass, and the more casual guests have left for hotel rooms or inns or home. Blaine's playlist is setting the tone of this part of the night perfectly – it's quiet, contemplative, softly romantic, and a man is gently singing about finding love and giving it away. Kurt's back by the bar, toasting an exhausted Mia with a glass of champagne, when he feels arms surround him from behind and Blaine's chin is resting on his shoulder.

"Don't drink too much. I think you and Beyonce just made me a promise," Blaine whispers in his ear.

"Yeah? You planning on putting a ring on it?"

"You planning on finding somebody else if I don't?"

Kurt grins over his shoulder and says, "Not this week. Come on, come dance with me."

Blaine takes his hand and leads him to the arbor just as the song changes, wrapping his arms around Kurt's shoulders and tucking his cheek against Kurt's. Kurt smiles sadly against him, remembering the last time they'd danced together, just hours before it had finally fallen apart for the last time.

He thinks about what Blaine had said, whether he would find somebody else right away if it fell apart, and he asks,

"Were you in love with Ollie?"

Blaine goes stiff against him, and then pulls back to look at him, his face stunned. "Oh. Oh, wow. Are we having this conversation now?"

"I think so. If... I mean, I do want to know. Can you?"

Blaine is quiet, looking just over his shoulder as they turn and move together, and Kurt says, "Blaine, you were with Ollie longer than you were with me, and you were older – it's important. I just think...." He drifts off, not sure exactly how to ask.

Blaine holds him close and rests his chin against his shoulder, and he sighs and starts talking quietly against his ear. "I was... I was not as in love with Ollie as I should have been, I think. I spent a lot of time wishing I was. But he was... god, Kurt, he was _so good_ to me. He was good _for_ me – he taught me so much about relationships. He would have done _anything_ for me, and it's... that feeling, it's kind of terrifying. Knowing that you have that kind of power over somebody, I mean. By the end – well. It had become obvious I wasn't ever going to love him like he loved me." Blaine pauses for a moment and then he says, "It's part of why I went home with him last summer – we were in trouble, and we needed some space to see if it could work. And then when we got back to school, I ended it. It was miserable – I never should have let it go on so long."

Kurt slides his hand up Blaine's back, anchoring it between his shoulder blades and pressing him closer. He thinks about Blaine and Ollie together, about Ollie's bright smile, about the way he looked at Blaine. He'd always hated it. Blaine says then, in a voice quiet and small, "I think he felt about me the way I still feel about you – hopelessly besotted. There's a lesson there, I think."

It's a lot to take in. Kurt holds Blaine against him and keeps moving them around the dance floor, feels Blaine's body and breath warm and familiar against his own. This connection, this _thing_ between them – it's been so much a part of his emotional landscape for so long that waking it up has been as easy as breathing and as scary as walking off a cliff, but what Blaine's talking about, _that_ kind of fear – "I don't feel terrified by it. By your feelings, I mean."

"You don't?"

"No. It feels... it's good. Knowing I'm not alone in it. Anymore, I mean." Blaine's hand presses firm against the back of his neck and his fingers curl into the back of Kurt's hair, and he wants to kiss him, but Blaine doesn't move, he just keeps dancing.

"He told me, you know. After we broke up, one day we met to exchange stuff, just... I don't know, finishing it up, I guess. He was still so pissed – he had a right to be, but still – but he told me to come after you. It... how I felt, it wasn't a secret. We never talked about it, not really – it might have been better if we had. But... he knew."

Kurt imagines it then, imagines sitting across from Blaine in a coffee shop and knowing that he was in love with somebody else. It's gutting, brutal, but it's also... it's a strange kind of gift, to know that somebody as kind as Blaine could be so cutting, that a heart as large as Blaine's could be so full of him that there wasn't room for one more person. They've wasted so much time. "I wish _I_ had known."

"So do I."

Blaine does kiss him then, sweet and filled with longing, his lips soft and wet and his tongue gentle, his hands tugging and petting at Kurt's hair. Kurt thinks about how they must look, what the parents and the friends must think, and then he kisses Blaine back, because he's not seventeen anymore and this is a place he spent all week building, and if he can't show Blaine that he loves him at their best friends' wedding, then he's not sure where they can.

Blaine pulls back before the kiss can become too intense and props his forehead against Kurt's. "God, I want to get out of here."

"Do you think we need to wait until they leave?"

Blaine pulls back and glances toward where Tina and David have spent most of their evening, and Kurt follows the glance. Tina's hugging some of her friends goodbye, and she looks tired – he's not sure she'll be here much longer as it is.

"Probably, but let's go see."

He takes Blaine's hand and leads him over to where Tina is watching her friends walk away, and then she turns to him and smiles at him and says, "Go."

Kurt just blinks at her for a second until she says, "I saw you – David and I were watching you. It's – you're so _romantic_ , it's ridiculous. But it was a beautiful wedding gift, watching the two of you together again, so thank you, and now get the hell out of here." She grins at him, and then pulls him into a hug; he feels Blaine let go of his hand to shake hands with David. "Really, _thank you_ , for everything," she whispers in his ear. "This day was perfect, and I couldn't have done it without you."

He pulls back to grin at her. "Did you like the cake?"

"Oh my god, it was amazing. And the flowers, and Blaine's playlist, and the _song_ – just, everything. It was perfect. Thank you, so much."

He squeezes her hands and says, "You're leaving for Napa on Thursday?"

"Yep, and we'll be in Lima on Tuesday for one last dinner with my grandma before she goes home, so let's get together so you can tell me _all about it_."

He gives her his best big–eyed stare and she laughs, and then he pulls her toward him and plants a kiss on her hair and whispers, "I'm so happy for you. Congratulations."

She squeezes him back and says, "You too, baby. You too."

–––

They're quiet, calm, in their walk back to the house and up the stairs. Blaine nabs a bottle of champagne as they pass the bar, and when they make it back to Kurt's room he puts the bottle on the table and says, "Do you mind if we shower first? I have all this stuff in my hair, and it's been hot in this jacket, and I just...."

Kurt straightens the room while Blaine showers, locks the bedroom door and opens the champagne and looks for glasses or mugs or _something_ before he gives it up for a lost cause and takes a drink straight from the bottle. Mostly he tries not to be nervous. It's silly, really, how important tonight feels. He reminds himself of who he is, where he's been, everything he's done, but still – when Blaine opens the bedroom door to a billow of steam and his towel–wrapped silhouette, Kurt can't help feeling like a teenager all over again.

He slips past him, wordless, and he thinks about it during his own shower. Years ago, he and Blaine had taken that first last step together, in a room not that different from this one, one weekend while Blaine's parents had been out of town. It should be easier now, now that the mechanics are clearer, but when they'd been younger they'd been scared of all the wrong things. Then it had been physical pain, and the idea of what it meant to do _that_ , to cross that invisible line that signified one of the last things that they thought was still childlike about them. He remembers Blaine diving for his iPod that day, rolling off of him once they were finally together there, naked and excited, because "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" had come up on his "ROMANCE PRIMER" playlist. Blaine had been flustered, saying, "God, I used to watch that movie with my babysitter, what was I _thinking_?"

 _As he dries off and wraps the towel around his waist he thinks about the stakes tonight. They shouldn't feel so high – they both know what they're getting into, after all, both know what this entails and what's expected. But – and maybe it was the conscious waiting, maybe that's why this feels so important – but sex tonight feels like a contract is getting signed, like the start of something big, life-shifting, and it's not the same as last time they'd taken this step together. It feels... fuck, it still just feels _adult_ , only completely differently than last time, and Kurt makes a face to himself in the mirror as he finger–styles his damp hair, because it would be great if he could start feeling like a real adult anytime now, thanks._

 _When he walks out he sees that Blaine has turned down the lights, so that just one of the bedside lamps is still on. Blaine's already crawled into bed, the white sheets hitting him mid-chest. It feels like a cliche, suddenly, like he's become a nervous virgin on his wedding night, and if it were any other moment he'd laugh at the layers of irony._

 _It's not any other moment, though, and then Blaine says, "Come to bed, Kurt," his voice low and gravelly, and that's another thing that's not helping – Blaine is so serious tonight, so solemn. All week they've played in bed, laughed together, and the change in tone is putting a knot in his belly._

 _He goes, though; he walks to the bed and drops his towel and just stares down at Blaine. Just for that moment, when Blaine's face changes to hunger and the kind of desperate want that isn't sure it's going to get what it's hoping for, Kurt feels powerful, back on his feet, and then Blaine schools his expression and lifts the sheet for him and it's back, that sense that this is harder than it has to be._

 _Blaine looms over him and kisses him long and deep and he throws himself into it, drifts away into the taste of Blaine's mouth and the smooth slide of his skin. Blaine moves closer, leaving kisses down his neck to nuzzle at his throat, at his collarbones. "What do you like now?" he says, his breath puffing hot against Kurt's damp skin._

 _Kurt smiles at the ceiling. "God, it's been so long since we were really _together_."_

"It has. So tell me." Blaine is leaving kisses across his chest, never going lower than his nipples, not even really paying them any attention – he's either stalled out or buying time, but either way, Kurt's suddenly sure that Blaine's listening for his answer.

And he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't _want_ that here. He's not ashamed of it, but this isn't the time or the place for it – he'll tell Blaine later, pull it out as a spicy story one night to turn him on and make him pay attention. Instead he says, "I've learned a lot."

"Kurt." Blaine is watching him now, his brow creased, a sweet, sad smile on his face.

"I like... I like everything."

"I can't believe you're being so shy!"

"I'm not! These questions are just so general."

Blaine rolls his eyes at him and then softens it by coming back to kiss at his neck again. "Fine. Do you still like topping?"

He lifts his chin toward the ceiling and thinks about it, about how badly he wants to fuck Blaine, to feel him around him. "Yes, I do."

"And how about bottoming?"

There, _now_ Blaine is moving this along a little, sliding his hand across Kurt's torso, shoving back the sheet with his wrist and letting his mouth drift down to follow. He peppers small kisses across Kurt's chest, pausing to lick-suck-bite- _pull_ at a nipple. "Mmm, sometimes."

"You were never that comfortable before."

"It's still not my favorite. It's.... Well. You know."

Blaine kisses back up his chest until he's whispering in Kurt's ear again. "I know how it is for me. Tell me how it is for you."

He can't think, so he just answers. "It's messy, and it's so close. I get hot and stuffy and overwhelmed and... it's a lot. I like my space."

"Yeah." Blaine straddles him and crowds down over him, sinking his teeth slow and gentle into the curve of Kurt's neck and licking at it, and god, that spot – he sinks his hand into Blaine's damp curls, holding his head there and moaning low and steady.

He keeps talking, though. "I like it best when I'm bottoming from the top – riding somebody is just... God, fuck, that's so good," and he's not sure if he means Blaine's mouth on him or what he's remembering. Both, maybe.

Blaine blows over the place he's just left wet. "Mmm. I bet you like that – being over him, him looking up at you while you have all the control." Kurt remembers, remembers riding Blaine like that, the few times he'd bottomed when they were together. It had been easier then, they both thought, easier for Kurt to set the pace and go with his comfort level.

"Yeah."

"Yeah." Blaine has pulled back to look at him, and for once he can't read him at all.

So he says, "What about you?" and he reaches up to run his hands over Blaine's chest – he can reach it now, and as much as he loves the smooth skin of Blaine's back, he loves this too, the soft scratch of Blaine's hair, the patterns it grows and swirls into.

"Ah. Well. A little of everything – I still like bottoming, I love it, but right now... Mostly I just want you," Blaine says.

Kurt smiles up at him. "So where does that leave us for tonight?"

Blaine watches him for a moment before he says, "I want to try something. Something that's still somehow new, for you and for us together and... in some ways, for me, too."

Blaine leans down again, lowering himself so that he's right back in Kurt's space, nuzzling their noses and faces together and speaking low against him, every breath a gust across his cheek, and every slow blink brushing his eyelashes against Kurt's skin. "I want to spend some time with you, with your body. I want to touch you and taste you everywhere. And then I want to stretch you out underneath me, and I want you to taste my skin and smell me with every breath and I want you to watch me while I fuck you. That's what I want – I want to fuck you, and I want to be in your space and I want to overwhelm you, and I want you to try not to forget, even for a second, that that's exactly what's happening."

Kurt's breath comes out in a rush and now he knows; now he knows why this is so scary, why Blaine is so solemn. It's because Blaine doesn't just want sex, he wants _everything_. Blaine is pushing again, he's upping the ante, and Kurt pants out, "Oh," and takes a moment to try to think about what _he_ wants, beyond Blaine's mouth back on his.

There's a lot there. Blaine is so close right now, so incredibly physically _present_ , and he wants to go back in time and take Blaine to New York with him; wants to rage at his younger self and make him listen to whatever Blaine had been trying to tell him so long ago; wants to have never let him go. He wants to have had these years, though, these years to himself in the city where he learned so much about himself, where he fearlessly explored some things and hid from some others. He wants to stop regretting things, regretting their break-up and regretting his last hook-up, and he wants to find a way to be as bold and fearless here, right now, as he is in so many other places. And he wants _this_ , he wants it too, wants every bit of Blaine that he can get, right here, and the best way to reach out and take him is to let himself go, let Blaine take him wherever he wants to. It's not at all what he's used to, but maybe that's the point.

 _Blaine is still just rubbing their cheeks together, and it shouldn't feel so sensuous but his words are still ringing in Kurt's ears and Kurt is so turned on by the thought, by the images that Blaine has planted there. He reaches up and frames his face in his hands, pulling him back and taking a moment to look at him, serious and so, so loved, _god_ , before he pulls him down into a kiss. "Yes," he says against Blaine's mouth, nodding. "Yes, I want that."_

Blaine lets his torso fall against him, pinning him there and sliding his tongue into Kurt's mouth with a heady moan. He kisses him for long minutes, then pulls away breathless. "I thought you wouldn't."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I wanted you to say yes."

Kurt laughs then, _finally_ lets the tension crack a little and breathes out a huff through his nose with a wide smile. Blaine grins against him, forehead-to-forehead, and says, "Yeah, I know."

"No. I just... I think the likelihood of me saying no to you right now is pretty slim."

Blaine pulls away and sits up tall, beaming down at him. "Well, in _that_ case –" before Kurt grabs at him, pulling him back down.

"No, that I _will_ complain about. Don't go anywhere – stay here with me. I want you close," and Kurt pulls him into a kiss and slides his tongue into Blaine's mouth and tangles his hands in his hair again. He pulls back, pressing his head into the pillow. "What you said – I want that. I want you to fuck me."

Blaine groans and grinds against him once. "Say that again."

Kurt grins. "You have me repeating myself a lot this week."

"You keep catching me off guard, and some things are worth committing to memory." Blaine suckles his ear lobe and slides against him, his cock dragging against Kurt's balls, and Kurt moans into it. "Say it again, Kurt," he whispers against his ear.

"I want you all the way inside of me. Stay close to me, wrap me up in you, and fuck me, Blaine."

Blaine groans, and Kurt shakes with it. "Do you like it hard? Slow? Tell me what you want."

"Let's find out," he whispers, and he pulls Blaine's head back toward his for a kiss.

Blaine was serious; Kurt watches him spend a long time kissing down his chest and belly before he has to drop his head back and pant at the ceiling when he sucks Kurt's balls into his mouth tender and slow, bathing them in broad, soft strokes. He teases the back of Kurt's knees with his tongue, holding his legs so he can draw sweet designs there, and Kurt finally hands a pillow down for Blaine to shove under his ass and slides his hands behind his knees, still slick from Blaine's mouth, and holds himself open. Blaine moans against him while he rims him open, sliding his tongue and fingers wet and insistent over Kurt's hole, and when Kurt's fingers start to shake Blaine tugs on his knees and pulls his legs down and turns him over.

Blaine fingers him for a long time, raining kisses across his ass and adding more lube when he needs to, and Kurt breathes through the stretch. Blaine says, "God, look at you. This ass is a fucking crime, so damn sweet," and Kurt is open, vulnerable and bare when Blaine presses two fingers inside and curves them to press there, _just_ there, and slides his tongue down to flick around his opening again.

Kurt breathes through it and thinks about how Blaine must look right now, thinks about his eyes closed and his forehead wrinkled in a moan, about his tongue extended and the look on his face. It _is_ overwhelming, and he's ready before Blaine is. He knows he's crying out, "Please, Blaine, _please_ ," and through the haze he laughs at the irony, begging to be fucked – he's heard it plenty of times but he's never understood it, but he's so full but not full enough, and he's feeling strangely _alone_ , stimulated but never complete.

Blaine pulls his fingers away and Kurt whines with the loss, and then Blaine is turning him and crawling up his body. He kisses him then – Kurt grabs at his head and pulls him down – he needs him, needs him close, connected, and Blaine groans into it and presses himself against Kurt, pushing his tongue closer into Kurt's mouth to sweep through and take him.

He watches Blaine as he pulls back to roll on a condom and lube it up. Blaine's flushed, sweaty, and his hair is askew and his hands are shaking, his body is trembling. "I love you," Kurt says, desperate to keep him close even when he's so far away, to let his words tie them back together, and Blaine glances up at him from where he's fiddling with the condom and says, "God, Kurt," and then he's back, he's shoving that pillow back under Kurt's hips and tipping him up, and then he pushes into him hot and wide and Kurt gasps from the stretch and the slide of it.

He panics, just for a second, clutching at Blaine's hip and his hair, and then Blaine's kissing him again. He smells like sex, tastes like Kurt's body and the salt of his sweat, and he's thick, so thick inside of him. Kurt flushes hot with it, with the heat of their connection and their bodies so close together, and Blaine's right there, hazel eyes blown and staring into his. The push and drag of his cock aches, so sweet and so right, and Kurt wants to close his eyes against it but Blaine is so present, watching him, so he can't, he _can't_. Blaine moves slow and steady, his gaze a brand and he slows it down, staggering his rhythm into sudden strong thrusts, so that Kurt cries out for him every time, his breath pooling hot between them. Blaine just watches, taking him in as he comes apart, over and over, in between kisses that linger, their lips clinging as Kurt gasps into Blaine's mouth with each sharp push and reaches down to grab Blaine's thighs high, just below his ass, to anchor him there, inside of him, hot and so thick and _god_.

Blaine moans, "Kurt, Kurt, I _want_ you," into his mouth and he says, "I'm here, yeah," but he knows – it's not enough, it can't be enough, because the sex will end, and it's just their bodies, not their _selves_ , and he can't stop _wanting_. He wants to swallow him whole so he can keep him, wants to absorb him in through his skin so he'll always be there, close, close, just like this.

"Please, _please_ ," Blaine gasps, and Kurt pulls him closer, gives up on kissing and watching so their faces are pressed together, sharing breath between them. They're both sweating, their foreheads sliding while Blaine pumps into him, back to steady and slow, and he breaks apart and winds tighter and tighter with each shove of Blaine's belly against his cock. Kurt gasps against him with each push in and slow drag back out, and he winds his legs around Blaine to keep him close and wraps his arms around Blaine's shoulders and buries his hands in his hair and keeps him.

Blaine moans his name, "Kurt, god, _Kurt_ " and suddenly his hips stutter and then he's groaning out his orgasm against Kurt's mouth. Kurt _feels_ him, feels him swell and their rhythm fall irregular and broken, and he's so close he wants to tip over, to come with him but it's not enough, he's not there yet, so while Blaine presses into him in long, shuddering, desperate strokes he shoves a hand between them to curl over his own dick, to strip and pull at it. "Yeah, yeah," Blaine groans, and before Blaine is finished riding out his climax Kurt roars and spills between them, clenching down around Blaine's barely softening cock and god, there, _yes_. Blaine's breath catches once, twice, and then he's kissing Kurt through it, licking into his open mouth to get that little bit closer. He can't breathe because everything is _him_ – the weight on top of him, the air in his lungs, the taste in his mouth – and every time he catches a breath it's Blaine, _Blaine_ , stealing it right out of him again.

He shoves at his shoulders, starting to panic again, and Blaine shifts his weight to his knees so Kurt's lungs can expand, but he doesn't stop kissing him, doesn't pull his mouth or his body away. He keeps his hands firm in Kurt's hair and presses his tongue, sloppy and wet, against Kurt's. Kurt breathes in deep through his nose and it's sex, bleachy spunk and clean sweat. His fingertips tingle where they slide against the sweaty skin of Blaine's back, and Blaine's rapid breath is hot against his cheek and loud over the roaring in his ears. He's everywhere, _everywhere_ , and the same thing that left him panicking is what calms him, because he isn't alone, Blaine is there, still hard within him and around him and a part of him.

And then Blaine's hips shift and he pulls back just far enough to look him in the eye, intent and so goddamn _predatory_ , and he presses into him again and says, his voice gravelly, "I'm not done with you yet," and it's long and slow, a thick stinging pull that's god, yes, please, god, _yes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song they perform at the wedding is an a cappella version of Ben Folds' "The Luckiest". The arrangement in my head is the one that's being recorded in [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=enxA1PY8Vbk).


	9. Sunday

By the time Kurt wakes the next morning the sun is already high in the sky, and he can hear noises from outside and from elsewhere in the house. He comes awake slowly, and Blaine is there, right there, pressed against his side where they've shifted in their sleep.

Last night they'd disentangled themselves, finally, and Blaine had wordlessly cleaned them up and then collapsed back into him. It had been... this morning, with the sun up and the night over, he's almost embarrassed to remember what it had been like, especially the second time. He hasn't been that close to somebody, that _intimate_ , in such a long time, and he had forgotten how vulnerable it leaves him, how hard it is to process honestly when he's become so used to cynicism and distance. But lying there with Blaine, the second time and then, god, _after_ , they'd just looked at each other. Blaine had settled on his back and Kurt had pillowed his head on his shoulder and watched his hand move over Blaine's chest, aimless circles. Blaine had breathed deep and hummed out his satisfaction, and Kurt had lain his hand over Blaine's heart just to feel it beat. He'd thought then, _he's real_ , and it's silly, Kurt knows it's silly, but this morning he still feels the same way – he's real, he's right here, he's breathing right next to me and soon he'll open his eyes and he'll look at me and he'll _still_ be real. Years of knowing Blaine, of sometimes understanding him so well and sometimes not understanding him at _all_ , didn't make it seem anymore unlikely.

He lies there, surrounded in sheets that smell like them, warm and loose and naked, and he stares at the ceiling and makes himself think about peeling himself away from this, about going home today, back to his parents' house and then New York, about going back to his life, just as he'd left it, with one hell of an exception. There are things that will change – he has a lot of people he'll be cutting out, for one thing, and that he doesn't feel that as a bigger loss makes him wince and stop to breathe for a minute – but the thing is that he can see it.

He can see how it's going to work, can imagine Blaine there, with him, and maybe it's easier because he's had so much practice picturing Blaine in New York. But he also thinks about what it will be like _now_ , about the difference between being in school and working for a living, about kissing Blaine goodbye in bed in the mornings while he runs off to work and Blaine sleeps in because he doesn't have classes until 10, about falling asleep while Blaine sits at his desk with the lamp on, reading; about meeting for lunch in the Park and sneaking off to catch an afternoon recital and taking Blaine as a +1 to events – straightening his tie, fixing his hair, stealing a kiss. It's a funny thing, to shift your life around somebody with so little warning, but Kurt's already done the less fun version of this, the rewrite that suddenly strips all those little things _out_ , so this... this should be easy. Happier, anyway.

Blaine shifts and sighs and wraps an arm around his waist, humming into his shoulder and saying in a sleepy voice, "I'm going to miss this, waking up with you."

Kurt turns to him and studies his face, his sleepy eyes and the small, unconscious smile bending his mouth. "Not for long, you won't. You'll be in New York in a couple of months." His eyes trail down Blaine's jawline, and he lets his fingers follow as he says, a little unsure, "You should come out early if you can. You've heard all about my apartment so I realize it's not that tempting an offer, but I _do_ have my own bedroom and you'd be welcome there."

Blaine hums into the caress down his jaw and closes his eyes and clears his throat. "I will. Still. Even once I'm moved there, it won't be like this every day."

"No. It won't." He brushes some hair away from Blaine's eyes. "We still have lives to lead, you know. Not every day is part of your best friend's hellish wedding week."

Blaine opens his eyes and smiles at him and says, "No, we can't be that lucky."

"Still." He finally meets Blaine's eyes. "We're pretty lucky, I'd say."

"The luckiest," Blaine whispers as he pulls him into a kiss.

They kiss for long minutes, sweet and soft, and Kurt still feels overwhelmed by him, so different from last night but just as wonderful. He slides closer and pushes one thigh between Blaine's, tangling their legs and reveling in their bodies, close and overwarm and sticky and perfect.

–––

Eventually Blaine slides out of bed with a lingering kiss and returns to his room to grab another change of clothes. Kurt rolls over and pulls his tablet from the nightstand to check his email - as much as part of him wants to stay here forever, he's already starting to mentally separate, starting to get his head in the game for what comes next.

There in his personal email is a comment from CityDan, a stranger who has been sporadically commenting on Kurt's personal blog for almost as long as he's been posting there. Kurt has no idea who he or she is – he imagines CityDan as a wiry man in middle age, somebody quiet and contemplative, because his advice is always very thoughtful and reasonable and _kind_ , so sensitive for a person who somehow manages to read full, unfiltered Kurt and keeps coming back. Kurt's google-searched on the username before, but the hits are very thin and he doesn't seem to be able to put together a consistent sense of a user. Over time he's come to think of CityDan as his fairy godfather; he's not real, not _really_ , but Kurt would still miss him if he disappeared, and he'd like to think CityDan would miss him, too.

As always, his comment is short. And, as always, it takes his breath away.

 _I'm happy for you. It's hard, sometimes, to let ourselves go with people who have hurt us. But I think that finding your way back to somebody who has known you for a long time and can still love you is a precious thing. It's even more precious to know somebody for a long time and to love_ them _– most of us can spend a lifetime looking for somebody we can feel that way about._

 _Good luck to you both. I'll be pulling for you. Just remember that falling in love isn't the point. Living in love is._

–––

Blaine comes back into the room later, clothes dangling from his hand and a stunned grin on his face. He bounces down on the bed and hisses out, "Wes hooked up with Rachel."

Kurt drops his tablet on the bed and stares at him. "What are you _talking_ about?"

"She was there – when I went to get my clothes, they were in bed together."

"Hmm. Maybe she just slept there, for some reason."

Blaine's face is mischievous, absolutely tickled. "Nope. That room came with two twin beds, and one of them was still perfectly made. And I'm pretty sure she wasn't wearing a shirt."

"Oh holy shit," he laughs, rolling the other way to lie flat on his back and stare at the ceiling.

"I _know_ ," Blaine breathes out.

"I wonder if Mercedes knows," he says, turning to look at Blaine.

Blaine pokes him in the side, overflowing with mirth. "Hurry, shower, go find out!"

Kurt laughs and rolls out of bed, pushing past Blaine. "We have been such a bad influence on you."

Blaine grabs his hand and pulls him back, so that Kurt is standing naked between his spread knees. "I know. Isn't it great?" and Kurt kisses him on the forehead and then snickers into his hair.

–––

Kurt sneaks down to the kitchen while Blaine is in the shower to get the coffee started. He balks when he walks through the doorway; not a single counter surface is uncluttered, dirty dishes are _everywhere_ , and the room generally feels hungover and filled with anxiety. He shifts piles of dishes and manages to unearth the coffee maker and makes his way to the cupboard where the coffee and mugs are stored and gets out of there as soon as he can interrupt the brewing to pour two cups. He knows it's just going to be waiting for him, but he needs a few more minutes before he can face it.

He's almost back to his room, just a few doors away, when he sees Rachel slip out of Blaine and Wes's room in last night's dress. Her makeup and hair are in disarray and she's carrying her shoes, and the moment she sees she blanches and grabs his arm, sloshing coffee over her dress. She looks down at the stain and then up at him, and she looks just seconds away from bursting into tears when she steels her face and drags him down the hall, pushing open the room Tina and David had shared and dragging him inside.

As soon as the door is closed she says, "You can't tell anybody," even as she's looking around the room like it's filled with people just waiting to attack her.

He leans back against the door and smirks at her. It's just too delicious, seeing her like this. "Blaine already walked in on you this morning and told me all about it, and I don't know who else I'd tell. Well. Mercedes, probably. But I suspect she's busy with Sam this morning, so." He shrugs.

She perches on the edge of the bed and wrings her hands, and her face is _so_ earnest, so serious. "I don't do this, Kurt!"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you do." He slaps himself a little; Rachel always had brought out the sarcasm like nobody else could.

Her look in return is vicious. "Shut up. He's cute. And you and Blaine were clearly headed somewhere to screw each other's brains out and Tina and David are so in love and Sam and Mercedes, even, and I just...." She trails off, staring into space.

Kurt watches her for a minute, and then says, a little more quietly. "I'm surprised you didn't come on to Finn. It must have felt like a flashback to high school."

"He's with somebody. I couldn't do that to him." She's quiet for a moment, and then she says, "Or myself," and his heart breaks for her.

"Did you two ever...?"

Her nod is slow, her smile sad. "Once. Well, once, all the way. There was - it got pretty intense senior year and there was a lot of... but _that_ just that one time."

Kurt nods - he'd always wondered.

Suddenly she groans, "God, he's still _here_ , and everybody's going to know at breakfast." She faceplants into the comforter and keeps mumbling through it. "I don't know how you did this. I wish I could just _die_." Somehow the theatrics are a comfort, so familiar even in this very strange situation.

He puts the coffee on the nightstand and sits next to her and pats her on the shoulder. "Okay, diva, that's enough of that. You'll do it because you have to, and you're the one who's always on about show faces. You didn't do anything wrong; you're allowed to have a one night stand. Who knows – it might even be good for you."

She turns her head to the side to glare at him, and he delivers the punchline. "Surely you can write a song about it," and the worst thing about using Rachel for a punchline is that, more often than not, he's the one who ends up getting punched. Still, it was totally worth it.

"Just for that I'm stealing your coffee," she says, with another vicious narrowing of her eyes, and she leans up to snag the cup from the nightstand and cradles it on top of her chest, breathing deeply from it.

He rolls his eyes and says, "Fine. I can always get more. Now get showered - you look like a girl who took a tumble last night, and that is not Rachel-Berry appropriate. Clean it up and hold your head high. You're our host for today still – you have to see everybody off, and then you can wallow in your disgrace on your own time."

She gives him a weak smile, and he takes mercy and brushes her hair back from her face. "You're fine. Did you at least have a good time?"

Her smile is tiny and wicked, and he raises his brows back at her. " _Interesting_. So forget about regretting it, and hold your head high and carry on. But my goodness, girl – get a shower first!"

She's still grinning when he slips out the door, heading back to the kitchen to grab another cup of coffee for Blaine. Wes is there with his own cup sitting in front of him, his chin propped on one hand and lazily scrolling through photos on his tablet with his other. Kurt looks at him for a minute and he can't help the smirk that he knows is stealing across his face; Wes looks just out of the shower, but otherwise calm and unruffled.

"Well good morning! Good time last night?" he says as he crosses back to the coffee machine. Wes has cleared some more space and set out a stack of mugs.

"Yeah, the wedding was great, I thought. Everybody seemed happy, and I got some great shots."

He finishes pouring Blaine's cup and leans back against the counter, watching Wes. He's still flipping through, and he pauses and turns the tablet so Kurt can see a photo of him and Blaine dancing together. It's a tight shot in profile, just their shoulders and heads so close together, and he can see Blaine's hand curled into his hair. They're not talking, they're just staring at each other, and Blaine is turned a little more toward the camera than he is and the look on his face is soft and tender and _breathtaking_.

"Oh," Kurt says, walking closer. "You... can you send that to me? I think I need that."

Wes grins. "Yeah, tonight or tomorrow I'm going to go through these and put them all up somewhere, but I'll email you this one right now."

He bends over his tablet, punching at buttons and sending the picture out immediately. Kurt watches him, staring at his fingers and his wet hair, and thinks about everything teasing he had wanted to say. "Did you sleep well?", "How happy _did_ everybody seem?", even "be kind to Rachel," maybe, when he's his better self. Suddenly none of it seems necessary, and he's sure that none of it is appropriate, not _now_ , so he just says, "Thank you."

He holds up the fresh cup of coffee and says, "Blaine slipped back to your room and grabbed some clothes this morning and is already in the shower, so I better get this up to him." Wes's head pops up and he looks at Kurt, his eyes wide, and Kurt just smiles at him. "We'll be back in a little bit."

Wes's voice is quiet, a little absent, when he says, "Right, of course," and Kurt grins to himself on his way up the stairs.

When he reaches the top of the stairs Sam is stepping out of Mercedes and Rachel's room, clad just in a pair of sweat shorts, and Kurt reflexively checks him out and then grins at him, shaking his head at the gobsmacked, guilty look on Sam's face and resolutely walking on. When he finally makes it back to his room he closes the door with a sigh, carefully places the coffee on his nightstand, and reaches for his phone to send a text to Tina.

"Just wanted to let you know that if your goal for your wedding was to generate our own personal bedroom farce, it was a rousing success. More gossip when you're not doing whatever it is you're doing."

–––

When they finally make it downstairs the whole house – Mia, Nicole, Finn, Rachel, Wes, Sam and Mercedes – are sitting around the kitchen table, a little bleary-eyed and agape, because a team of six strangers are standing in the kitchen and doing dishes.

"What...." Kurt's voice drifts off as the whole table turns to stare at them.

"Your parents sent a cleaning crew, that's what," Rachel says, tears in her eyes.

Kurt looks at Finn, who is leaning back in his chair with a big smile on his face. He raises a brow at his step-brother, and Finn spreads his hands wide. "That's all Mom, man. You know how she is – I don't know how she thinks of this stuff, but she always does."

Mercedes leans forward and pillows her head on her crossed arms. Her hair is a mess and there's mascara smeared under her eyes, but her voice is heartfelt when she says, "Your parents are my favorite. Do you think they'd adopt me?"

Sam nudges her arm with his. "Too late – I have dibs on the Hudson-Hummel House for Wayward Boys," he says, and she turns her head to grin up at him.

"Well, actually, I was there first," Blaine says, wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist.

Kurt rolls his eyes and they land on Finn when it's over. He watches his stepbrother as he says, "Finn's getting married soon – I'm sure they're in the market for a replacement," and grins wide when Finn starts to splutter.

–––

After coffee and a makeshift breakfast of the last of the frozen waffles and the bacon that wasn't used up the night before, they all clear out of the kitchen so that the cleaners can finish their work in peace. Wes and Blaine head down to the dock to remove the poles that supported the chuppah, and when everybody else is settling down in the living room to rest for a minute before they start packing, Kurt grabs Mercedes's arm and says with an imperial wave of his hand, "My girl and I are heading out to walk the grounds one last time. We'll be back later," and drags her out the front door, snagging an empty cardboard box on the way out.

The rental people are still packing up the chairs and unwinding the lights from the arbor, moving slow and lazy and laughing and talking amongst themselves. Kurt nods at them and starts gathering the jam jars from the tables, dropping them in a pile on the grass. Mercedes follows his lead, and eventually they settle there in the grass, Mercedes cross-legged and Kurt in a crouch, because he's dressed for driving home, not lounging on a lawn.

"We haven't had much time to talk," Kurt says as he dumps out a jar and plucks the candle from the pile of sand to toss it to the side, and then places the jar in the box.

"There's always been something." She picks up a jam jar in either hand and waves them around.

He hums agreement at her and dumps two more jars. "So. Sam."

"Yep."

He shifts on his feet and then glances up at her when she stays quiet. "That's all I'm getting?"

"Tell me about Blaine," she says, in a pointed voice.

Kurt doesn't even care. "Oh, Mercedes. He's... still Blaine."

"He's in love with you." Her voice is a sweet tease.

"Yes. I think he is." He keeps working, and then he says, "How did I get so lucky?"

"Are you kidding me? You know you're fabulous, baby. I've been telling you that since forever."

He grins at her. "And I've been telling you that whoever you're with needs to think you're as important as you obviously are. So tell me – are you important to Sam?"

She glances up at him and gives him an impish grin. "I don't know how important either one of us is to the other. But it's easy, and the thing about Sam...." she drifts off, the grin still on her face.

"Yes?" he drawls.

She keeps grinning, and dumps the next jar just a little more viciously. "The thing about Sam is that he's not an asshole. Basically, that's it. I'm not sure ours is a love for the ages, but he's never been anything but as nice to me as he could be, and I like him."

"And that's enough?"

"For right now? Yeah." She leans back on the grass, propping herself up on her hands behind her. "Hell, Kurt. I need a job, and I need something to look forward to. Sam might not be able to help me find work, but he's sure as hell worth looking forward to."

Kurt pokes at her knee. "I saw him this morning without his shirt on."

Her grin is savage, delighted. "So then you see what I'm talking about."

"I have some idea, yes. And what about Mitchell?"

She raises her brow and tilts her head to the side. "Who?"

He dusts off his hands and rests his elbows on his knees, propping his chin on his hand and grinning at her. "Right answer."

–––

Kurt slides his tablet into his bag, tossing the flap closed, and after glancing around the room one more time he looks over at Blaine, who's sitting on the edge of the bed watching him.

"You're already packed?"

Blaine nods. "I never really pulled much out – and I was in here most of the time, anyway."

Kurt quirks a brow and then grins. "True. What time are you heading out of here?"

"I promised David I'd stay until it's done. He's still sort of freaked out that Rachel's parents were so relaxed about letting them use the space, and he asked me to stay and make sure it's spotless."

"Living up to that best man title, aren't you?"

"Well, I do try."

"You succeed," Kurt shoots back with a glance, and he's trying for flirty but Blaine's not taking the bait at all; he smiles, but it's not quite meeting his eyes.

"Hey."

"What?" Blaine tilts his head, the look on his face quizzical and fake and guarded, and Kurt _hates_ it.

"You tell me."

Blaine looks at him for a minute, and then he sighs with a sad smile and reaches for Kurt. He slides over until he's standing between Blaine's knees, and he slips his hands up to cup Blaine's cheeks so he can stare down into his face.

His hazel eyes are clear, searching Kurt's, when he says quietly, "Tomorrow I'm coming to your house. I'm going to stand on your front porch again and knock on your door and wait for you to answer. Promise me that when you do, you'll kiss me."

Kurt smoothes at his hair, strokes over his cheeks, and says, "If you call before you come, I'll meet you on the sidewalk and do it there." Blaine's smile creases his cheeks under Kurt's hands. "You don't have to be afraid of my front porch. We aren't 18 anymore."

Blaine chuckles and leans forward to rest his forehead against Kurt's chest. "It's not the porch that's the problem."

"I think the porch is at least a _little_ the problem." When Blaine is quiet, Kurt tugs at his hair until he looks up and says, "At least I hope it is. Is something else going on?"

Blaine looks up at him then, his eyes bright. "You're not afraid to leave here? It feels... I don't know. Magical. Like everything that happens here is the exception to every rule."

Kurt watches him for another long moment, traces one forefinger down the slope of his nose and across his bottom lip and then he says, "Sweetheart, that's not the house. I'm pretty sure that's us."


	10. Epilogue

_A selection of text messages_

From Blaine: Hey. I'm parked in front of your house. Still willing to meet me on the sidewalk?

From Tina: Okay, we're back in Lima and the parents have been appeased. Come over and look at pictures and tell me everything I missed!  
From Tina: And bring Blaine if he's there.  
From Tina: Also, I'm really liking the idea that I can get both of you in one text message. Very efficient.

From Mercedes: Baby, when exactly are you leaving? NO movement on the job front, so I'm going down to Tennessee to hang out with Sam for a little bit. Just don't want to go until you're gone, too.

–––

 _A post from the "Boy on the Street" blog at www.papermag.com, Monday, June 26, 2016_

Hello, lovelies!

Still in the Dreary Midwest, although I have to admit that I'm feeling a little guilty for calling it that. It's been a wonderful week, filled with laughter and singing (have I ever told you that I used to sing? It's true!) and the very best kind of old friends, the ones who know you and put up with you not because they're obligated but because, wonder of wonders, they actually _want_ to.

The wedding went off without a hitch, the bride was gorgeous, and the groom and his handsome friends (friends who are _our_ friends, too, and aren't we all the very luckiest) were incredibly winning. The photos here were taken by one of those handsome friends, who's a surprising talent as well.

This coming week promises to be filled with more of those friends, because we can't seem to get enough of each other. A wise man once told me that finding people you can love for a long time is one of life's greatest gifts. I think he's right, and not just because I'm in the middle of a honeymoon of my own, of a sort. But I think the thing is that loving people for a long time keeps you who you are, and sometimes that can be horrible and confining but sometimes it can just be very honest.

Look at me, grown so maudlin and reflective here! Being away from my city _does_ things to me, I tell you, and some of them aren't completely terrible, it seems. Next week I'll be back, and I'll be at _all_ the best parties surrounding Africa Fashion Week, so don't miss it!

Until then, darlings, keep doing what you're doing. Find joy and then make some more, and if you have a lead on how I should help you do that? Well, you know how to tell me all about it!

Your Boy on the Street

–––

 _More text messages_

From Blaine: On the ground. Missing you already!  
From Kurt: Already at the office. Go home, sleep for both of us, and then start packing.  
From Kurt: And call me tonight, please.

From Blaine: Packing sucks. I really have to bring *all* of my clothes, don't I?  
From Kurt: Unless you want me shopping for you.  
From Kurt: Scratch that. As long as we're on your budget: don't pack a thing.  
From Blaine: Walked right into that one. Nice try, though.

From Blaine: Turnpike after turnpike after turnpike. Give me something good to look forward to.  
To Blaine: Tara and Joseph just left to head to a friend's house-share. For a week. I am all alone here. Whatever shall I do?  
From Blaine: Hold that thought for four hours. Your layabout, grad student boyfriend is on his way.

–––

 _From The Lima News, Sunday, March 25, 2017_

Mrs. Laura Campbell is delighted to finally announce the engagement of her daughter, Megan Rose, to Mr. Finn Hudson of Lima, Ohio. Megan is a graduate of Westerville High School and The Ohio State University and is a teacher at Lima Heights Elementary School. Mr. Hudson, the son of Burt and Carole Hummel, also of Lima, is a graduate of William McKinley High School and part-owner of Hummel Tires and Lube of Lima. Finn and Megan will marry in late July and, following a honeymoon to New York City, will reside in Lima.

–––

 _A voicemail message left on Kurt's phone November 11, 2017_

Kurt! Oh my god, why aren't you answering your phone? I got it! I'm gonna be on _Broadway_ , Kurt!

You have to come. You and Blaine, _promise_ me you'll be there opening night! I can't do this without you – I still remember being on my very first Broadway stage with you. Can you believe it's finally happening? I know it's chorus, and I know _Thoroughly Modern Millie_ is… well, but still! It's happening!

Kurt! Oh my god, call me back.

–––

 _A post from the "Boy on the Street" blog at www.papermag.com, Friday, November 2, 2018_

Good morning, darlings.

This post has been coming for a while, as some of you have already guessed. And yes, fine, you're all right – my posting here _has_ slowed. It's been complicated the last few months while we've worked out some changes.

But here's the skinny: this will be the last post from Your Boy on the Street.

Because the truth is, my lovelies, none of us (our dear Peter notwithstanding) can remain boys forever. We all grow, because if we don't we turn into bitter, twisted creatures and that's not good on anybody. Three months ago John Turnish, your favorite features editor and mine, stepped out of the job to move across the country to that other glorious City, and ever since then we've all been busy here at _Paper_ trying to carry his weight and make everything work. And the sad fact is that John is truly irreplaceable, but he does have to be replaced, and after much conversation and surprisingly little office politics, it looks like I'll be the one to step into that role.

A lot about my life is changing, but the change I am the saddest about will be saying goodbye to the good times we've had here. Some of you have been playing along since the very beginning, and I count myself lucky to have met so many of you at events and parties. The good news, at least as far as I'm concerned, is that I'm not giving up the events, at least not yet. Please stop me and say hello, any time. I still love putting faces to the names.

But nobody can do everything, and it's not just my work life that's changing. Six months ago I stopped talking about Hot Teacher, and the eagle-eyed (and the nosy, my dearest soul-kindred gossip hounds) speculated a nasty breakup had occurred. It hadn't. Six months ago Hot Teacher and I moved in together, shacked up good and proper, and nobody wants the good dirt from a Boy who's happily living with his high school sweetheart; where's the drama in _that_?

 _Paper_ 's not about to cede nightlife coverage to other venues, of course. Liz and Steph will still be busy over at Monosyllabic Girls, and one of my first new tasks is finding another student blogger to bring in. I have some experience with that last thing, obviously, and it's surreal to be trawling through these blogs so many years after my own go-round. I'm hoping to find you lovely people somebody you can really grow with.

Just like you did with me. It's been a pleasure, my lovelies. Don't be a stranger because still, as always, you should feel free to get up to all kinds of adventures and then tell me **all about it**.

With love and gratitude,

Kurt Hummel  
Features Editor  
 _Paper Magazine_

 

 _**FIN** _


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